Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

He didn’t know when, he didn’t know why, or how, but he knew that at some point in his short life, Tommy had gone from a sheltered little kid to nothing but another teenager, ready to let the world forget him.

There were three constants in Tommy’s life at the age of 5. His Mum, his Dad, and his brothers. The sun, the moon, and the stars. His mum was the sun, kind and bubbly, inviting everyone in with her warmth. His dad was the moon, her perfect counterpart, a calm to her existence. And his brothers were the stars.

Something he would look longingly up to, wanting nothing more than to join them, but then again, the stars would be incredible no matter how close or far you were.

The three pillars that kept him up, and as the sun shone brightly in the mid-summer sky, they would be there. They were a perfect family, in their nice big house surrounded by land.

They didn’t need a house that big, but it was left to his mother by a distant relative and when the family was expecting their first child, they moved from the busy city to a nice quiet town. Every memory the family made, they made within those ivy-covered walls, in the gardens, out by the barbie, truly something out of a fairytale.

The fireplace always crackled in winter, the smell of burning wood wafting through their house comfortingly. In the summer, the brothers splashed in the pool. In the spring, their mother would take them out into the gardens, picking flowers, the human encyclopedia when it came to the world, as their father liked to joke.

And as the summer melted into Autumn, they’d carve pumpkins, lighting them up with little homemade candles. With each memory, they built themselves a story.

Sometimes, if he closed his eyes, and concentrated hard enough, he could almost hear his mother telling his brothers to stop fighting, her laugh filling the air. God, Tommy missed those days, he should have locked away each memory, tucked it away for the darkest days when it felt as if the ground was calling him.  The sun hadn’t shone in years.

By the time Tommy turned 8, he had two pillars in his life. His dad worked more now, but he’d still come home in time for family game night once a week, and even though it seemed like his dad had aged decades in a matter of months, with eyebags that dragged his face down, when he smiled, everything felt ok again. Wilbur and Techno seemed a bit less agitated on those days.

It wasn’t as easy as it used to be. He missed his brothers, the two people who could always rely on being there. The family’s pride and joy, his brothers. Tommy could still remember the days when he wanted nothing more than to be just like them. He copied every mannerism, word for word, step for step. Wilbur just pulled him into a hug as Techno ruffled his hair,

“Why would you want to be like us? If anything I’d want to be like you.”

“Yeah, I want to be the person who can make a room light up by just walking in.”

He should have locked away those tiny, insignificant compliments, for the days when all he craved was Wilbur’s smile, or Techno’s head ruffles.

Wilbur didn’t want to play with him all the time and Techno hardly ever came home from school and when he did, he’d stay in his room until dinner where Tommy would try and kick his legs and ask him how his day was.

He didn’t usually reply, but that never hurt his feelings. It was fine.

On the days when Dad would come home early, Techno would come home, and Wilbur would bring his guitar out and they’d sit around the table in front with a mug of hot chocolate, Tommy with his marshmallows, Wilbur with whipped cream, and Techno with a cinnamon stick.

They’d play monopoly until Wilbur managed to create yet another drug cult and Techno would wave around his hands complaining about how Wilbur had made an unlawful government that he needed to take down.

Their dad would double over laughing as Tommy asked what a drug cult was. On those days, even if it was a school day, they’d curl into each other with a blanket big enough to completely drown Tommy’s small frame and watch a movie.

On game nights, they used to watch The Nightmare Before Christmas, but now every time they’d watch it, the empty spot next to Phil just felt colder, so now they stuck to Up.

Tommy missed those days. The monopoly box now sat in the game cupboard, collecting dust, and there was no need to use such a big blanket for one person, so it stayed stored somewhere long forgotten, along with the Christmas tree and pumpkin carving kits.

When Tommy turned 9, he realised, maybe he didn’t have the pillars he thought he had. Wilbur and Dad seemed to fight more, Techno usually being a bystander, only offering his opinion every now and then.

You could usually find Tommy on these nights, ear pressed against the wall trying to catch the words that fell out of their mouths when they thought he was asleep.

‘We’ve been over this, you can’t just leave. Think about Tommy-’ Tommy’s own name being hissed seemed to kickstart his heart.

His blood ran cold, they were talking about him. Wilbur had a silver tongue, and sometimes he slipped, let himself lash out, hurting those who dared listen. Tonight, was one of those nights. Tommy knew this, but Tommy couldn’t help but listen. Wilbur’s voice seemed foreign, like a cold winter breath, turning his body ridged, left to its unforgiving mercy.  

‘This all of this is Tommy’s fault! He stole our childhood. There’s a reason I don’t have friends other than Niki and the band- because “who wants to hang out with Soot and his annoying little brother?!’

‘Wilbur!’

‘It’s true, though! You know it, I know it, Tech knows it.’

Techno. His idol. Someone he looked up to more than everyone else. He’d stand up for Tommy, right? It would break his already hurting heart-

‘He’s got a point dad-,’ Oh.

‘He’s a selfish little brat who doesn’t think of anyone but himself-,’ Tommy held his breath, wishing that he could wake up from this nightmare. That his crying would get his brothers running into his room, scoop him up into a hug and make everything night again. But of course, he didn’t wake up, left only with his pillow to muffle the sound of his sobs, and dry his tears.

His mind begged that his dad would come to his defence, talk his brother out of his rage. Instead, he was met with terrifying silence. A silent confirmation that he was everything Wilbur had said.

He was selfish, he was a brat, he was in the way, he took their childhood, and he didn’t deserve them. A piece of him died that day, right there on his bed in his brother’s hand-me-down T-Shirt, allowing the reality of the real-world poison his mind for the second time in his short time on earth.

‘So, what do you want to do, Wilbur? Just leave?! You’re not even 18 yet-’ His dad insisted, a tone of desperation clear in his voice.

Looking back now, it was almost as if his dad knew this was an unwinnable argument. That his two sons, Tommy’s brothers, half of their family, were dead set on leaving. That there was nothing that could be done other than to face the reality.

‘Come on are you even hearing yourself, dad?’ The sound of the wooden chair legs scraping across the floor squeaked through the house. ‘Tech and I’ll be 18 in 2 months, Tech’s got a full scholarship lined up and I’ve got the band…..and it’s not like I’m not doing well in school either. We’re going to the same place- come on dad- please, this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity….’ But what about me? He knew it was selfish, he knew this was the reason they wanted to leave but at the same time, they were all Tommy knew.

Phil makes an exasperated sound. He couldn’t possibly be considering this- letting his brother just leave him. They loved him right? Then Wilbur’s words rang through his head.

He’s a selfish little brat who doesn’t think of anyone but himself.

‘We’ll talk more about this in the morning. Go to bed boys, it’s late.’

But everything just felt like a buzz in the back of his head. They loved him. They weren’t going to leave. He didn’t think he could deal with another person leaving, it would absolutely break him. And for a 10 year old, he already had too many cracks.

When he came down that morning he tried to ignore the pounding in his head, the heaviness of his eyelids, the way he couldn’t help his feet drag. Determined to be better, to be a brother worth staying for he didn’t bug Wilbur to make him breakfast, or for Techno to drive him to school, instead silently tiptoed around the kitchen drawing as little attention to himself as he could possibly manage.

It didn’t hurt when no one offered him a hug, when no one noticed the dark circle under his eyes, the lack of bubbly energy in his eyes. A part of him seemed to crumble at a lack of touch, as if it was something he needed. It didn’t hurt, he wasn’t hurting, he was fine.

He chose to ignore the empty longing in his heart. He was fine. He was fine when no one asked if he was ok. He was fine when he came home to unbuilt boxes laying in the living room. He was fine when those boxes started to fill themselves. He was fine when his brothers' rooms started to become emptier. He was fine when suitcases were being filled.

As they drove to the airport, Tommy smiled, he wouldn’t ruin this for them, he wouldn’t steal this from them. With a promise of their eventual return tucked into his pocket, he smiled. It wasn’t permanent, they wouldn’t leave him, they promised. 

As they walked into the terminal, he waved them off with a wide-eyed grin, blue eyes shining, calling out how much he loved them. He was fine when they didn’t say it back.

A switch went off in his head the night his brothers left. Everything he thought he knew no longer made sense.

Why did they leave him?

Why didn’t they love him like they used to?

His small heart shattered, his dad having no clue how to pick up the pieces, that had been his brother’s job since the passing of their mother, left him on his own. Space. Assuming he required space, left him, as his shifts grew along with Tommy’s shadow.

He was 16 now. He had gotten his bracers off, he had started high school, and he started working. He started making a life for himself.

He knew that relying on those around him was stupid, so he didn’t. He wasn’t the same kid he had been when he overheard that conversation.

He wasn’t careless anymore.

He wasn’t the brother of the great Watson twins, he was Tommy fucking Watson, his own person. He didn’t need his brothers to make him someone. Hell, he couldn’t even remember what they looked like if he had been completely honest.

When he first realised he couldn’t remember which shoulder Wilbur had a freckle on he cried, the daunting concept of time finally raining down on his tired mind.  

It was scary, caring what other people thought of him. But he was ok. He knew what he was doing. Everything was good, everything was under control, and everything was going well. He was doing better than he had in years, finding himself in the sea of self-doubt had been exhausting but he learnt to swim.

He was ok.

Headphones in, golden curls a mess on top of his head, bopping along to the beat as a text popped up on his phone.

Tubbo: Hey bossman, you left your books at my place, want me to come to drop em off?

Tommy: Oh shit, so I did

Tubbo: Lmao

Tommy: Just bring em to school, I’ll get them from u tomorrow.

Tubbo: Kk

Tubbo: Also, Ranboo wanted to know whether uve started ur bit 4 the science project.

Tommy: Yeah Ive started, imma do more tonight. 

Tubbo smiled as he read the reply. It was good to see Tommy doing well. This time last year, his heart would pound out of his chest every time he was left on read. Back then, he hardly had the motivation to open his texts let alone reply. Those nights were usually filled with Tommy’s sobs over a call ringing in his ears and he asked why no one loved him.

But now that was all water under the bridge. School was good, well as good as it could be while carrying the Watson name. He knew how much Tommy hated being compared to Wilbur and Techno.

Tubbo had never personally met legendary Wilbur and Technoblade. Sure, he had heard stories, but having met Tommy in the 5th grade, a year after the brothers left to receive a higher education Tubbo only knew what he saw in old photos.

He knew Tommy had a rough relationship with them, but he never pried. He knew what it was like to want to move on, to want to be more than the past. That was the whole reason he and his family had moved to this town. Away from the whispers back in the city, everything being a reminder of what they had lost.

The stinge of cheap liquor finally washing out of his clothes for the first time in almost a decade had been the day the Underscores finally moved away and started to heal. He knew his dad was doing everything in his power to be the dad he had failed to be for 10 years and if he was completely honest, neither he nor Dream had, but that didn’t mean that he wasn’t ready to move on, to make room for their tiny family.

But as Tubbo watched as he got a job, went back to school, got pasted a week sober, then a month, then a year, further then anyone thought he’d get-, got a promotion and moved them after he had got his master's in business, Tubbo slowly learned to no longer see the man who drank away his childrens childhood and instead a father worthy of their name.

Now they lived in a quaint little house on the same street as Tommy, every afternoon after school they’d walk home, running around in a garden too big for one kid, filling the hole Tommy’s brothers had left. Tubbo was happy, and he refused to let that go, holding on even when Tommy wanted to let go.

On the first day of year 5, he remembered sitting there during roll call. Hating the fact that the teacher just had to introduce him as the new kid, as if he didn’t feel like an outcast enough, being a small enough town that everyone knew everyone.

Anxiously fiddling with his fingers, praying the day would be done with so he could go home, play with Dream, and hide under the covers,

‘Tubbo?’

‘Here, Miss.’

‘Oh you must be the new boy. Everyone this is Tubbo, he’s just moved here from the city, remember to be kind and welcoming.’

There it was.

‘Thomas Watson…oh you must be Wilbur and Technoblade’s brother!’

‘Yeah. And it’s Tommy.’

‘Of course. How are your brothers doing?’ Tommy seemed to shrink in on himself, desperately trying to rid himself of the title,

‘Don’t know, don’t really care- they left for college.’

The lady forced a smile, eyes crinkling with what Tommy later described as disappointment. They all pull that face when they figure out I’m not like them.

‘Oh, wonderful.’

This seemed to be a common theme for each teacher they came across. The Watson’s seemed to be some sort of legendary family for the folk of the town. Tubbo had finally a chance to learn during recess that day, their teacher pairing them up so Tubbo would have a partner on his first day of school.

‘What’s with everyone calling you whatstheirnames brother?’ He plucked up the courage to ask as they turned the corner to the art rooms.

Tommy’s smiled slip, and Tubbo’s brows deepened, he had been confused all day as to what was up with these two brothers of his new friend.

‘Uhhh, they were pretty impressive when they went to school here. Won a bunch of awards and shit- Techno had his fencing and he was pretty fucking smart too. And Wilbur won his huge cash prize for the school with his music.’

‘Wow- they sound cool.’

‘They are. That’s the problem. I’m nothing like them.’ He grumbled, shoving his hands into his pockets.

Tubbo frowned, ‘I’m sure that’s not true-’

‘Unfortunately, it is.’

Tubbo didn’t try and argue after that, instead choosing to marvel over all the art supplies that were laid out in front of him.

Tommy walked up the gravel driveway, pushing open the big red door, startled as he saw his dad sitting at the kitchen table, head snapping as he heard the front open.

‘Tom, that you?’

‘No, it’s the postman, just waltzing into your humble abode.’ He replied snarkily,

‘Ah huh. Come here will you, I’ve got something I want to talk to you about.’

Well, that was never a good sign. He ran through every possible thing he could have done in the last week to get him in trouble. His grades? No, they were just fine. His room was a mess but it wasn’t like his dad went in there, hell he was hardly ever home.

‘So, I just got a call from your brothers- They’re coming home!’ Well that certainly wasn’t what he had been expecting. Getting yelled at about his grades would have been much better, in his opinion.

‘W-what?’ He stuttered out, blinking rapidly.

He didn’t want to believe it. His hands shook, breaths coming in shallower than they were meant to. A million thoughts ran through his mind. This wasn’t meant to happen. This wasn’t meant to happen. Why was this happening? 

Why why why why why? 

And just like that, years of getting over the feeling of uselessness that filled itself in the hole his brothers had left behind in his heart, years of moving on from the feeling of not being wanted, of not being needed, all of a sudden, came back.

‘Yeah isn’t that great? They want to come home! Tech graduated and Wilbur misses home. This is great, isn’t it, Tommy.’

‘Y-yeah-,’ His hand still shook as he brought his headphones back over his ears, ‘I’m gonna go for a walk….I’ll be back….later.’

He didn’t even wait for a reply, before dropping all his stuff and racing outside, the backdoor closing with a thud. Dad wouldn’t care. He knew that.

He ran to the end of the driveway, fumbling with his phone until he opened discord. Tubbo, where was Tubbo? His eyes cast over dozens of contacts before he finally found them. Clicking on it, he listened to the chimes twice before he heard his best friend's voice on the other end.

‘Hey, bossman. What’s up?’ He knew it was selfish not to reply, letting an agonising silence take over Tubbo as he softly cried, ‘Bossman? You good?’

‘T-Tubbo-’

‘Tommy?’

‘Bench?’

A single word seemed to convey an entire conversation between the two, as shuffling came from down the line, a couple of curses then the sound of a door slamming shut.

‘Hey, hey- stay on the line with me, yeah? I’m gonna need you to breathe for me, got it bossman?’

And for the first time since calling, Tommy remembered to take in a full breath. His hands felt sweaty as he gripped his phone, and it felt as if he couldn’t stop his heart from pounding out of his chest. Pressure building up behind his eyes as he furiously swiped his nose.

Turning another corner, the small park was exactly the same as he last saw it, the same overgrown trees, uncut grass, and rusted swing chains. Untouched. Perfect.

‘There we go. I’ll be there in a couple of minutes.’

‘Kay-’ Tommy mumbled back, their spot coming into sight.

It wasn’t much. But it truly meant the world to the two. They had found the bench when they were 10, after hiding from the relentless bullying, accidentally stumbling up a bench that was completely hidden from the world, protected by a thick bush.

They went there when they needed a break, from school, from the bullying, from the world. Every laugh, every tear, every moment they had at the bench was theirs and no one else’s, their safe haven.

 Tommy sat, pulling in knees up to hide his tears, tugging on his hair, begging the air to start filling his lungs again. This was pathetic. Why was he having such an aggressive reaction to his brothers coming home, this shouldn’t be happening-

‘Hey, hey Tommy,’ Tubbo pulled his hands from his hair, ‘Don’t do that, you’ll hurt yourself.’

Tommy huffed, though it came out more like a half-strangled sob. ‘Wanna talk about it.’

That’s how these conversations always started. With Tubbo asking if he was ok. He wasn’t. Then he’d ask if he wanted to talk about it. He didn’t. Then Tubbo would ramble about his latest robotics project until Tommy would feel ready to talk. Some days he’d talk. On others, he’d just cry, but it always ended with Tubbo dealing with his problems for him. He really was selfish like that.

‘And then oh my god, this dickhead in front of me right, goes what are you looking at shorty? Like, bold of you to assume that I’d even waste my mental energy on you, Derrick.’ Tommy nodded, his mind finally wavering back into reality, chuckling. ‘You ready?’

If Tommy was being completely honest, he didn’t think he’d ever be ready. But for Tubbo, anything’d be possible. ‘My brothers are coming home-’

‘O-Oh.’ Tommy huffed out a laugh, yeah, oh.

‘Why now? It’s been half a decade…. And all of a sudden, out of nowhere, they decide they want to come home… ’

‘Tommy, you weren’t even 10. There’s no way they expect you to be the same…’

‘But what if they do?’

‘Then they’re idiots.’

‘Yeah?’

‘Yeah.’

‘But…I’m not normal- this wouldn’t happen to a normal person- what kind of freak has a fucking panic attack over finding out that their brothers are coming home?’

‘Yeah, but this isn’t just about them coming home now is it? It’s what them leaving made you think about yourself.’ Tubbo had a point, of course, because Tubbo was always right.

His brothers leaving hurt, but it was what he felt afterwards that destroyed him. No one wants you, no one needs you, if the people who were forced to stay couldn’t hack it, how is anyone else expected to? Tears refilled his damp lids, Tubbo’s hands quick to wipe them away.

‘But it’s true isn’t it?’

‘Fuck no, Tommy. You need to get it through your thick scull that some people are arseholes and isn’t true for everyone, capiche?’

‘Capiche?’

‘You don’t sound too sure, Bossman.’

And to be completely honest, Tubbo was scared. Tommy had been doing so good- so, so good. It would kill him if this is what broke him again.

‘Can you think of anything, I dunno, positive about this?’

Tommy laughed, ‘Positive?’ Tubbo knew it was a stupid question but he knew it was better to keep him talking than to let him slip into the depths of his mind.

Tommy was pale as he took a deep, heaving breath and muttered, ‘Maybe Dad’ll start coming home again-’

‘Yeah, it sounds nice.’ Just as Tommy’s head found its way onto Tubbo’s shoulder, his phone buzzed in his pocket, groaning as he fished it out of his pocket.

Dad: Hey Tommy, where are you? You need to come home now. We’ve got to get the house ready for your brothers.

Tommy let out a shaky breath before standing up. He smiled down, offering his hand to Tubbo, helping him up. Gave him one last hug before going their separate ways for the evening.

‘Thanks, Big man. I don’t know what I’d do without you.’

‘I know, Bossman, I know.’

Chapter Text

‘Would you stop tapping your leg?’ Techno complained as his tray table shook,

‘I can’t help it-’

‘You can. I call it…. Not moving. I know, I’m such a genius.’

‘I mean I can’t help the fact that I’m nervous. Like what if he’s different.’

Techno arched his brow, ‘Wilbur, it’s been six years, what do you mean “what if” he’s different the kid’s what 15? 16?’

‘Don’t remind me-’

Hello this is your pilot speaking. We will be landing in L’Manburg in 45 minutes, it will be 12:34pm local time. We hope you have enjoyed your flight with us, and that we will be seeing you again. Thank you.

‘What is I screw this up Tech? What if he hates me?’

‘He won’t hate you.’ He was wrong.

As the twins existed the terminal they couldn’t help but let the smile take over both their faces at the sight of their father, he looked older then the last time they saw him, his hair was longer, he had more wrinkles but the joy in his eyes as his boys came into view was the same as it had been since they were children.

His whole face seemed to light up as he called, ‘Techno! Wilbur!’

‘Dad!’ They ran towards him suitcases in tow, crashing into each other, not caring if the entire airport stared at them because they were home. Savouring the feeling of his dads arms wrapped around him tightly, God, he had missed him.

Pulling apart Wilbur’s eyes fell to the other blonde. It almost startled him, that he didn’t need to look that far down, that Tommy was at his eye level. The last time he had seen his baby brother he had been at his waist, clinging onto him, refusing to let go.

‘Tommy!’ His smile faltered as he made eye contact. His blue seemed duller, no smile on his face, dark bags under his eyes, sad. He looked sad. Sad was such an off putting emotion on Tommy’s face. His brother was meant to be nothing more then bright and happy.

‘Hey, Wilbur.’ Wilbur refused to acknowledge the fact that Tommy flinched and then stiffened in his embrace.

Everything was fine.

‘I missed you so much!’

‘Yeah….you too.’

The car ride was probably the most awkward thing Tommy had ever experienced. He couldn’t remember the last time he had spent this much time with his dad. He heard sounds come out of his mouth that he hadn’t heard in years. Laughs.

He looked less stressed than he had in months, as if his brothers provided him with the means to sleep well. He wished he could provide that, but then again, Tommy was Tommy. He wouldn’t sleep for him either.

‘So, what have you been up to?’ Tommy could have laughed at how easily his dad just asked that, as if there wasn’t a 6 year gap in their history.

‘Uni, fencing, Wil’s music, I suppose.’

A familiar drawl in the way Techno spoke made the weird pressure build up in his eyes. They really left him for 6 whole years. 2191 whole days…. That was a long time, now that he put it like that.

‘Yeah? That’s great! You should have called more often, yknow, it would have been nice to hear your voice more then a couple times a month.’

Wilbur scratched the back of his neck sheepishly, ‘Yeah sorry dad we were really busy, but hey, we’re here now aren’t we?’ A round of applause to his brother Wilbur, truly an amazig excuse to ghost your family for 6 years.

Tommy put his headphones back in, unable to keep listening. What even was this conversation? Deciding he was too tired to deal with his family’s shit, Tommy leant his head up against the window, and closed his eyes, sleep calling him after another night where insomnia clawed at his brain. He had just stared up at his ceiling, counting the imperfections for the 5^th time, listening to each agonizing tick go by. That’s a second of his life he won’t get back. That’s another, and another, and another. And before he knew it, sunlight was already streaming in through his patchy curtains, staining his room with happiness and light. He didn’t deserve happiness and light.

On those nights he’d usually call Tubbo and Ranboo but he couldn’t put them through another night of cheering him up just because he couldn’t sleep. That was selfish. And Tommy wasn’t selfish. Tommy wouldn’t be selfish.

Techno looked over at Tommy, worry whispering at the back of his mind. It wasn’t normal that a child could fall asleep that quickly, it took him no longer than 5 minutes, a sign of clear sleep deprivation. What was going on? He had been sitting next to Tommy for a good half hour and was yet to even see the boy smile, yet alone hear him laugh. He missed his little brothers laughs, an elixir of life, he had called them once when they were just children, Tommy being no older then 5.

‘What?’ The child demanded after he caught his brothers staring, ‘You’re looking at me all funny.’

‘We’re just thinking how-,’

‘Lucky we are to have you as a brother.’ Techno finished Wilbur’s sentence with ease, knowing exactly what his brother was going to say. Getting a warm flush coursing through his body as if did every time they did something particularly “twinny”, Tommy’s words, not his.

Tommy stuck his tongue out, scrunching up his little brows, before deciding that it was a good thing, letting a smile over take his feature,

‘Yeah you better be happy,’ Before carefully opening his mouth before adding, ‘Bitch!’

His brothers went silent, slowly making eye contact before dissolving into laughter. Taking it as a win in his own eyes, the youngest also started laughing, his laugh coming out in little puffs, his cheeks going all red from the lack of oxygen.

Techno then proceeded to lift Tommy off Wilbur’s lap and into his own before burying his face into his curls whispering,

‘You’re laugh, it’s like an elixir of life, like when you laugh, nothing can go wrong.’

Tommy didn’t understand the reference but the words made Wilbur go quite, before whispering,

‘Just like mum’s.’

‘Yeah. Just like mum.’

What had happened? Where had his little brother gone? Techno couldn’t help but scold himself at that thought, Tommy hadn’t gone anywhere, it was him that left.

He couldn’t expect Tommy to be the same 10-year-old boy he had left, but deep down there was a part of him that had wished for him to stay the same.

‘So- what’s been going on with you, Dad?’

‘Not much has really changed. Lots of work, you know.’

‘Oh yeah?’

‘Yeah I got a promotion a little after you guys left. It’s been good, though the shifts are also, gotta travel a lot more as well.’

‘So who looks after Tommy?’ Wilbur questions, Techno noting the sudden shift in his voice,

‘Hm? Oh, yeah he stays home alone-’

‘What?’ Tommy stirs, causing Wilbur to continue in a much softer, yet no less aggressive voice, ‘What do you mean he stays home alone? He’s 15!’

’16, Wil, he’s 16.’

Wilbur only falters for a moment before regaining his bearings, ‘He’s still a child-’

‘Wil- why don’t we try and have a nice family reunion, yeah?’ Techno mutters, turning his body to face his twin from the passenger side, sending him a look that hinted that they had already had a similar conversation.

‘Fine.’

Walking into his childhood home was bittersweet, Techno would admit. As he stepped through the red door, he let himself breathe in the familiar smell of firewood and old books. He stared at all the old photos exactly where they had been left, nothing had been taken down, nothing new put up.

And as much as things had stayed the same, everything felt new and different at the same time. There was a new rug, the couch wasn’t in the same place anymore. The dinner table seemed to be so clattered he didn’t see how anyone could eat there, as was the kitchen counter.

He almost jumped as his dad’s hand clapped him on the shoulder,

‘Welcome home, boys.’

‘Good to be back.’

Roaming the halls, the twins were surprised to find their rooms exactly how they had left it, well, all except for Wilbur’s bed, where the covers were slightly crumpled as if someone had been sleeping on them.

Picking up little trinkets they had collected years ago, mini-figures of Greek gods, Minecraft figurines, family photos, and tiny mementos preserved perfectly as if they had stepped into a life-sized time capsule.

In these walls he could watch himself grow up, every high and low coming back to him in waves, memories rushing through his brain.

The badly patched-up hole in the wall after a fight was still there. Walking over to their shared desk, Wilbur ran his fingers under the bottom of the table, smiling when his hands felt the scratchy engraving of Wilbur Watson & Technoblade Watson. The older of the two smiled as he saw what Wilbur was going, going to feel the engravings himself.

In the dark caverns of Wilbur’s mind, he regretted leaving in the first place, wishing to go back and watch his brother grow in the same house he did, share memories just like he did with Techno. But that’s why he was here now, to make up for lost time, he was certain that after Tommy warmed up to him again, they’d go back to how things used to be.

The second Tommy got home, he locked himself in his room, sliding down the wall as the tears finally fell. He didn’t know why he was crying; he didn’t understand. Nothing had gone wrong; they had hardly spoken to him, yet he felt himself starting to hyperventilate.

They left you. They left and they never looked back. He knew that though, that shouldn’t make his whole world tip upside down. They hate you now. They’ve come back to tell you. They’re disappointed in who you’ve become. You’re pathetic, a sad excuse of a brother, you don’t deserve the Watson name. I know. Tommy thought pathetically, I know.

His knees shook as he hoisted himself up, shakily reaching out towards his draw, pulling out a packet of razors. He had bought them over 3 months ago, he promised Tubbo he had thrown away the last of the blades 2 months ago.

They were never meant to see the light of day; he was had gotten better. Then why did you keep them? He didn’t know, but they helped, he knew that much. It made him feel lighter than any medication could ever. He needed them, he needed a release, he craved his blood-

Taking one out he held it in his hands staring at the blade, it wasn’t too late, he could call Tubbo, 3 months, it had been 3 whole months since he had cut.

But he knew the cycle too well, the relapse had been inevitable, and the sooner he got it over and done with, the less progress he was pouring down the drain.

The first cut was always the most disheartening, yet it was also the most satisfying. As if he was regaining control over his pain, a tiny little victory over the little demon that lived inside his head, forcing its way down his throat, choking him, making his tongue heavy with guilt.

After that, it was always a blur, one more? Five? Ten? Who knew? He’d find out when he had to dress them properly, but in the moment all he could do was relish in the freeing feeling of watching the blood trickle down his arm. And just like that, he felt like he could breathe again.

He sat on his head, eyes not leaving his bloodied arm. He should clean it up, he really should but he can’t seem to summon the energy to even stand up let alone wrap his arm. He’ll do it later. Yeah, later.

As a teardrop fell onto one of the cuts he smiled, it was pretty, like he understood why it was bad, like what kind of freak cut open their own flesh just because they couldn’t deal with life. But at the same time, it was empowering.

He knew it was cliché, that every angsty teenager from every angsty knock off Hollywood movie said the same thing but it was true. It was such a strange feeling, as if he was waking up from a particularly confusing dream. Like he had just broken out of a concrete jail, slowly chipping away at his sense of reality.

He usually lost track of time after a relapse, on a good day, he’d call Tubbo, spluttering out sorry’s as his best friend gently pressed down on the cuts with some paper towels, blinking up at his broken best friend with watery eyes, smiling as he told him how proud he was that he reached out. Always looking for something to congratulate the other on.

On bad days, he’d space out for hours, letting himself bleed, a voice in the back of his head wishing that’d he’d just bleed out, he free of the shackles of mortality. Some day’s he’d reach for the first aid kit under his bed, or in the toilet cupboard and patch himself up, imagining someone’s arms around him, telling him he was ok, that he wasn’t broken, that’d it get better sooner or later, that he was strong. He wasn’t. He knew that, everyone knew that.

But sometimes he craved another person’s touch so much it hurt, so he’d whisper to himself, he was alone, but for a minute, he had someone and that’s all he needed. It seemed today was going to be a bad day.

And so there he sat, watching as his blood seeped through the tissue, turning such and innocent colour into a bright crimson like a poison, just like he was doing. Maybe it would be better if he just didn’t wake up tomorrow, if he cut just a couple more times he could-

‘Hey Toms? Dad says dinner’ll be ready in 5 minutes.’ Wilbur’s voice rang through his room, breaking Tommy out of his paralysis. He couldn’t help but scrunch up his nose in confusion, why was he hearing Wilbur’s, oh right.

But what was even more confusing was his Dad was cooking. He couldn’t remember the last time he and his dad ate together. He was always out of the house hours before Tommy woke up and came back after Tommy had eaten.

Most nights were filled with him heating up some frozen meal that his dad had left in the freezer, unless he was heading around to the Underscores.

Around 2 years into his friendship with Tubbo, Schlatt, Tubbo’s dad, found out that Tommy ate most of his meals alone, after that, Tommy ate at the Underscore household almost every night with Tubbo, Schlatt and Dream.

On those nights, he would enjoy a nice, simple homemade meal, made by yours truly as Schlatt panicked about the ever-increasing likeliness that his son and his best friend were going to blow up his kitchen, as Dream wheezed, claiming that their cooking made them borderline serial killers to which Tommy replied with a dignified curse.

‘Huh?’

‘Dinner-come on, hurry up, dads cooked up a storm.’

He winced as he couldn’t hide the wavering in his voice as he replied, ‘O-okay. I’ll be down in a minute. Sighing in relief as he heard Wilbur’s footsteps retreat further into the house.

Wrapping his arm, pulling over a hoodie over his long sleeve top Tommy whipped his eyes one last time before he opened his door and headed downstairs. The clatter that usually polluted the table was now stacked in a neat pile, 4 steaming bowls of spaghetti and parmesan.

‘There you are, Tommy. Have a seat.’ His dad carried another bowl with steamed veggies, smiling as he took his seat next to Wilbur. He sat without responding, God, he felt slightly ill.

‘This looks amazing dad,’ Wilbur marvelled, ‘I can’t remember the last time I had anything that looked this good.’

‘Speak for yourself, I don’t know about you but believe it or not Skeps pizzas were to literally die for.’

‘Skep?’

Wilbur jumped in as Techno went to reply, ‘Skeppy. Some dickhead Tech met at uni, he majored in computer science.’

‘He sounds cool.’

‘He’s not.’

Phil chuckled at the twins as Wilbur crossed his arms, glaring playfully at his twin. They looked so happy, unable to remember the last time he had seen Tommy look as carefree as his brothers, then again, he was a teenager, it would be over soon.

Dinner might have been even more unbearable than the car ride back home, which was saying something seeing as which that car ride made him want to throw himself in front of a moving truck more than usual.

Listening as his brothers and dad talked as if nothing had changed made him feel like he was a goldfish. Stuck swimming in his own little fishbowl let forgotten, observing the outside world from afar. Everything about him had changed, yet his brothers came back the same.

‘So, Toms, what have you been up to?’ Wilbur asked.

His mind that had been going a hundred miles per hour fell silent. What had he been up to?

‘U-um school?’ He replied pathetically. What kind of answer was that? He watched Wilbur frown and Techno snort,

‘Anything else? What have you been up to? Friends, hobbies, clubs?’

‘Not much…’

‘Tommy-’ Wilbur whined, turning to their dad, ‘What’s Tommy been up to?’ He watched his dad look up at his youngest, taking in his tired slouch, the shakiness in his hands.

‘Uhhh- oh your friend, what’s his name? Tim? Tucker?’

‘Tubbo, dad, Tubbo. Yknow, he’s been my best friend since we were 10-.’

‘Oh, that’s right. How come you never invite him over then?’

‘I do- He comes over every couple of days and stays over like every 2^nd weekend. You’re just never home when he’s over.’

Wilbur frowned again. How come their dad had never heard about Tommy’s supposed best friend?

‘Oh….yeah-’ Phil replied sheepishly, shaking his, once again turning the conversation back to the twins.

Tommy sighed, picking up his plate, walking back to the sink. The sound of running water filling the kitchen.

He had almost made it ¾ up the stairs when Wilbur called out to him again. ‘Where are you off to?’ 

‘My room?’

‘Why are you leaving so soon Theseus?’ He should have known he was done the second he heard his old nickname, the one that was reserved for Techno and Techno only. So, he stood on the stairs like an idiot, mouth opening and closing. His brother’s tone was carefully perfected even. Unlike his, completely unsure, replying as if he were the one asking the question.

‘Homework?’ Techno rolled his eyes at his lame excuse, ‘I have a shit ton of chem and bio to start-.’ Wilbur then looked up, a question in his eyes,

‘Chem? Bio? Aren’t you in year 10?’ Tommy nodded, ‘Then why are you in Chem and Bio, they’re A level classes-’

‘Why on earth are you doing A levels, you shouldn’t need to start them for another year and a half-’ Techno added, all while his dad served himself another serving of vegetables.

‘I’m in the extension class- it means I do science with the year 11’s and we do year 12 content, and I’ve gotta keep my maths grades up cause I’ll probably start NHT next year to just free up year 12.’

Techno nodded whilst Wilbur gaped at him, ‘I’m sorry NHT?’ Phil asked, finally zoning into the conversation.

‘Northern Hemisphere Timetable, dad. It means I’ll start maths content half a year early so I’ll finish 6 months before everyone else, then I’ll have more time for my other subjects.’

‘Sounds good mate.’

Usually, Tommy hated having this much attention on him, wanting nothing more than for the ground to soak him up, but somewhere deep within his body he wanted his brothers to be impressed, to be proud, of him. But of course, that was too much to ask. And with that, Tommy hopped up the rest of the stairs, closing his door for the last time that evening.

‘Bio and chem? I was absolutely rotten at those back in school-,’ Wilbur marvelled, playing with his food.

‘Yeah, I didn’t even know we had science genes in this family,’ Techno joked, which was true considering the fact that Techno was an English major and Wilbur studied History and Geography, along with an arts degree.

How come dad acted like he didn’t know Tommy was doing A levels this year? Wilbur wondered, surely he knew right? Then again, it seemed that Phil didn’t know much about Tommy’s life anymore. It was strange, to say the least. Then again, Tommy was a teenager, he should probably give his dad the benefit of the doubt here.

As the third brother listened from upstairs, Tommy couldn’t help the small, bittersweet smile that tugged at the corners of his lips. He wished his dad would congratulate him just as much as he congratulated his brothers, he wished that all his awards and achievements would make their way onto the fridge, and he wished that his school photos stood proudly on the mantle just like Wilbur and Techno.

But he wasn’t Wilbur or Techno, so he was fine with having a box hidden away at the bottom of his closet filled his tests he was proud of, all his school photos, and every report card dating back to year 6. But he wouldn’t complain, because complaining was selfish, and Tommy wasn’t selfish.

Going to grab his textbooks out of his bag, Tommy was confused as he realised they were missing, remember a second later he had left them at Tubbo’s that afternoon. Eh, he’d just use the online version.

His monitor came to life as he clicked through files until he found Cambridge International: Chemistry, clicking on it, he began to scan each question, frowning as he reread each equation. Tubbo’d probably decode whatever gibberish had just filled his screen, but before he could even open discord, a familiar ringtone filled his room. Smiling at the sight of Tubbo’s profile picture, he clicked on it, letting himself to relax for the first time in hours.

‘Hey, Bossman!’

‘Hey, Tubbo~’

Tubbo replied with, ‘Oh my god I hate maths so much.’ At the same time, Tommy opened his mouth to say, ‘Chemistry can go burry itself in a ditch.’ The duo chuckled, Tubbo sharing his screen shrieking at the unholy-looking formula.

‘Oh, this is fine, don’t worry. It just looks really complicated but it’s just quadratics.’ Tommy explained, pointing to the first question. ‘See here we can call all these terms A B and C, right?’

‘Yeah?’

‘Right. So, then we plug them into the formula which looks hard but honestly the worst part is the memorising. So, its “X” equals negative “B”, square root B to the power of two, minus 4AC, over 2A. Make sense so far?’

‘Yeah, I think so….’

‘Right, so then when we plug in the numbers from quad we get, X equals 4 to the power of two, minus 4 x 15 x 3, over 2 x 15 which is 30.’

‘Oh my god, it was that easy. Curses mathematics.’ Tommy chortles as Tubbo proceeds to “flip off God”

‘Yeah, pretty simple huh? What did I tell you?’

‘Thanks, Tommy~’ Tommy’s heart goes all fluttery and warm at Tubbo’s gratitude. He was able to help someone, using the knowledge that he had learned himself.

‘Anything else?’

‘Ummm nothing so far….but there seems to be even more atrocious-looking stuff up ahead that I’ll procrastinate, so until then? Want me to run you through chem?’

Tommy nodded gratefully as Tubbo opened another eBook. Tommy nods, wincing as he reread the equation,

‘So this part is just balancing the equation, yeah?’ Tommy nodded. ‘Right so once we balance this, which is just trial and error…probably leave hydrogen and carbon last, then you want to balance the ions yeah? Which is just switch, reverse, cancel.”

Tommy grumbled; he didn’t understand how chemistry came so easily to Tubbo. He was better suited to subjects like physics and biology, chemistry just made his brain hurt. But they had each other’s back, and with Ranboo being the English quiz of the group, the trio took the school by storm, never stopping, never slowing down. Tommy was more then just a smaller Wilbur, or Technoblade’s brother, he would make a name for himself. He refused to just fade into their legacy.

Chapter Text

Once upon a time, in another town, a lifetime ago, Tubbo was convinced best friends were overrated. All he needed was his brother, while the other kids went around to each other’s houses after school, he’d walk the 4 kilometres to the warehouse where Dream worked and would help the best he could.

Packing boxes, putting stickers on products, swiping a faulty item where he could, anything to earn an extra dollar, anything to keep his family afloat.  

The sky would always be an inky black as they left, and Dream would hoist his baby brother onto his shoulders and gallop and twirl all the way home.

He lived for the moments after Dreams shift when they’d walk home, Dreams constant frown lifting, allowing a crinkle to return to his eyes under the moonlight.

Their silhouettes shine in the shadows. In those moments, the reek of alcohol on his clothes no longer mattered, Dream’s steady hand guiding him through the mess of unpaid taxes and empty beer bottles. Refusing to let his younger brother lay eyes on their dad, laying passed out on the couch.

Every morning he would wake up to Dream lightly, blearily smiling back at his brother, rolling over and attempting to fall back asleep. Dream would always chuckle at his antics, then heave his tiny frame over his much larger shoulders like a sack of potatoes, throwing him up, catching him in a giant bear hug.

His morning started off the same, Dream shaking him awake, but this morning, his head was pounding, his limbs felt like lead, his tongue felt like sandpaper, everything hurt.

Coughing as he sat up, shaking his head when Dream went to pick him up,

Dreams eyebrows creased, ‘You good, Tubs?’ Worry woven into his words, bringing a hand up to check his temperature. ‘You don’t feel too warm, but you can stay home today if you want. I can take the day off.’

Tubbo knew a lie when he heard one, he knew there was no way in hell Dream couldn’t just take a day off work, there were dozens of people who would take the work the second a job was offered, and his boss knew that, and so did Dream.

‘I’m ok…. just tired.’ Dream looked sceptical as he sat down next to his brother, silently offering his shoulder to lean on.

Laying in his lap, Dream carded his hand through his thick chocolate hair, lightly scratching his scalp, chuckling softly when Tubbo reached into his touch. He was far from ok.

That evening, during the 3-kilometre walk to the warehouse, it poured down on the small boy, his backpack is the only thing that shielded him from the rain, it wasn’t as if they had the money to buy a raincoat anyway.

Slipping through the back entrance, a shiver ran through his spine, coughing lightly.

‘Tubbo! Christ, you’re soaking…. you should have gone to reception and called me. I would have come and picked you up.’ Dream scolded.

Tubbo looking back at him with a look that read with what? It was true, it wasn’t like the small family owned a functioning car, only one collecting dust in the shared parking lot of their apartment.

Grabbing a towel from a box that he had yet to finish packing, Dream wrapped his brother like a burrito, attempting to quickly dry his hair, stripping him of his wet top, replacing it with his neon green hoodie that hung from his body, framing his adorably, making Dream verbally coo.

‘Aww Tubbo~’ Tubbo just stuck his tongue out, trying to keep the cough that kept trying to escape his throat.

‘It’s so cold-.’ Tubbo whined back, still shivering. He immediately knew this was the wrong thing to say as that worried look Tubbo hated so much over took his big brothers feature again.

‘We should get you home-’ Tubbo’s eyes snapped open, feeling more awake then he had all day,

‘No!’ Worry lines reappeared on Dreams forehead,

‘Why not?’

‘I like it here….well, I don’t like being home-,’

It wasn’t exactly a lie. Tubbo truly liked being anywhere else other than home…if he could even call it that. ‘I’m fine, Dream.’ He reassured. He was fine. Warily nodding, Dream returned to packing boxes, a sad look returning to his eyes.

It continued like this for the week. Tubbo would wake up with his cough getting progressively worse, Dream would attempt to get him to stay home from school.

He was fine, Tubbo would tell Dream, he was fine, he felt fine, there was nothing wrong with him. He was lying. It felt like every day it was getting increasingly harder to breathe, now unable to hold in his chesty cough, keeping Dream up all night.

Dream would still sometimes tell Tubbo what had happened that night. Under blanket forts the two made, lines of a horror story would spill from Dream’s lips. On their way home one night, at the end of the week, Tubbo’s coughing hadn’t stopped, it hadn’t stopped when he fell to his knees desperately trying to suck as much oxygen as he could. Hacking away, tucked in Dreams arms. He brought a hand up to his mouth, trying to conceal the awful sound, before feeling a stick substance coat his hand. His brown eyes met Dreams green ones before shakily opening his hand, showing the half translucent blood right as his body went slack as if a puppeteer had cut his strings, going heavy in Dream’s arms.

The first time he had heard Dream tell the story, he had never heard such raw anguish in his brothers’ voice as he mumbled,

‘I thought I was going to lose you,’ Over and over, his face pressed against the youngers head. And every time Tubbo would reply with,

‘I’m sorry,’ Dream would of course scold him, taking the blame for his stupidity, for his lack of self-preservation.

He woke to the sound of clinical beeping, staring up at an off-white ceiling, an IV drip connected to his upper arm. Hazily taking in the room,

‘Dream?’ Words barely forming from disuse, his throat burned as he felt coughs rearising. His brother jolted awake, blinking the dazed look from his eyes, worry immediately flooding back to every fibre of his being,

‘W-where am I?’

‘The hospital,’ Dream walked over, brushing the hair out of his eyes, ‘You passed out on our way home…you’ve got pneumonia…and pretty badly-’ Tubbo cast down his gaze. He made Dream worry-, ‘Why didn’t you tell me? You scared me half to death-’

‘I’m sorry…..’ There were a million things Dream wanted to say. He wanted to scold his little brother for hiding his health from him, for pushing himself too far, for not taking care of himself- but one look at his quivering lip and watery eyes sucked the breath out of his lungs,

‘J-Just don’t do it again? Yeah?’

‘Mhm…’ Tubbo’s eyelids started drooping again, sleep beckoning him once more.

‘H-hey Tubs, stay awake for a little longer for me.’

‘No-’ Dream squeezed him slightly tighter,

‘Tubs- nurse! He’s awake.’

Dream, at an early age decided he wasn’t a crier. He couldn’t be. Crying was a weakness in his world. Crying was an invitation for life to knock him back down, and he couldn’t afford to be down. But as he watched Tubbo’s lifeless body in a white hospital bed, he could feel the pressure building up behind his eyes for the first time in years.

All he wanted was someone to hold him, for someone to tell him it would all be ok, that Tubbo would make a full recovery and they’d be back to their usual selves, instead he was told by a nurse with a tablet, looking half dead on her feet,

‘Family of Tubbo Underscore?’ Dream stood up, wringing his hands,

‘Uh yes, I’m his brother…’ The burse looked him up and down before asking,

‘Is there a parental figure I could speak to?’

Dream paused for a moment. His dad was probably black-out drunk on the couch, some meaningless show running in the background,

‘No sorry, our dads working late tonight.’

‘Unfortunately, it’s not looking too good for Mr Underscore, there’s quite a bit of fluid in his lungs and at this point in time we are unable to tell if he is to make a full recovery…we’re going to let him rest a little longer, then a doctor will go in and run a full assessment and from there we’ll decide the next course of action.’

Dream let those words sink in. It’s not looking too good. It’s not looking too good. It’s not looking too good- He quickly whipped at a stray tear that escaped his eye, refusing to look up.

Unable to just sit and wait in the waiting room as the doctors assessed his little brother Dream decided to trek home, gathering more comfortable clothes for Tubbo, maybe a snack and a couple of books.

Opening the door, wrinkles appeared on his nose as the sour after-smell of cheap beer wafted throughout the house. And there his dad was, snoring without a care in the world as if his son wasn’t in the hospital. Rummaging through the nearly empty fridge, grabbing a water bottle, and a packet of probably stale chips he heard his dad stir from behind him.

‘Wha-?’ Dream rolled his eyes, a scowl appearing on his face, ‘Wh-eres your brother?’ His voice slurred with sleep, a hangover pounding away at the back of his head.

‘The hospital, dad.’ He muttered under his breath, almost quiet enough that he couldn’t hear. Almost. Schlatt hoisted himself up, groaning as his vision swam,

‘Whatchyousay? Hospital?’

‘Yeah. He’s got pneumonia. I just stayed the night with him.’ That seemed to get his attention,

‘Shit-‘ Stumbling as he stood up, bracing himself on the couch arm, ‘I’ll come with you.’

‘No.’ Dream growled. ‘You’re hungover and a mess, and the last thing Tubbo needs is your pathetic ass there.’ That seemed to hit a nerve within his father as he looked down, shame within his eyes.

‘Please Dream-’

‘Don’t fucking Dream me. Cause you’ll want to come, then you’ll get bored, come back here and get fucking drunk again.’ And with that, he marched out the door, a small backpack over his shoulder.

He missed his dad. He missed the endless days at the park with his dad pushing him on the swing, as he stared lovingly at his wife, her belly getting even bigger by the day. He missed the nights the small family cuddled on his parents’ bed and watch TV.

‘What do you think we should call the baby, bud?’ Dream looked up at his mum, her blond hair falling onto his forehead tickling him,

‘Bob.’ The five-year-old said, his father letting out a hearty laugh,

‘I’m not sure I want a Bob junior running around the house in a couple of months-’

‘Bob junior?’

‘Yeah your great great great great great great great grandfathers name was Bob, y’know?’

Dream just scrunched up his nose, ‘You’re lying.’

‘Yeah. I am.’

‘I mean I was thinking Tony, after my dad, but what if we take the B from Bob and make it Toby?’ His mum suggested, forever playing the mediator. A smile overtook his dads face as he pictured the family, him holding the newest addition to the family in his arms, making a silent vow to be the best father he could be.

‘Toby…I like that, Dream, Toby, Schlatt and Maryum….’ A soft smile of his lips, ‘The perfect family.’ And maybe they were, for a while.

Dream used to love the story of why his parents decided to name him Dream, not a particularly common name. ‘It’s cause you were our Dream baby. You were everything we could have ever wanted.’

His mother hadn’t been able to conceive, every doctor told her it was nearly impossible, but against all odds, after months and months of trying, two lines had appeared, a new chapter of their lives beginning with that test.

It was an even bigger miracle at the announcement that they were expecting another child and Dream vowed to be the best big brother he could ever possibly be, along side his parents promise to give the brothers the sun and stars, only one of them kept their promise.

Tubbo didn’t remember his mum’s face, he didn’t remember the kind calculated look in her eyes, the sweet snakelike tone in her voice. There was no room on their mantel for a cheating whore, his mum destroyed his dad, who destroyed his childhood. She smiled at them, carded their faces than put out her cigarette on their backs. They stole the little things, Dream never had anyone to wave at during school productions or little handwritten notes in his lunch box like his friends, so he’d make sure Tubbo did. He never missed little concerts, he made sure every lunch came with a smiley face, he would make sure Tubbo grew up knowing he was loved. He couldn’t lose him.

Tubbo wasn’t meant to be still, he was like the oceans bay, calmingly swaying, gently rocking anyone and everyone in it slowly, there was something special about him, Dream knew the kid was going to go places, he wasn’t meant to be in some hospital bed hooked up to breathing tubes. A crash then a brash curse came from the other side of the curtain in Tubbo’s room, standing up, Dream went to investigate.

That’s where he found his dad, his hair damp from his first shower in weeks, a black T-Shirt that was too small to cover his stomachs flubber. His vision turned red as he saw the man,

‘What the fuck are you doing here.’ He seethed, his dad just turned around sheepishly,

‘I was worried?’

Worried….worried, huh.

‘I didn’t know you were capable of worrying.’ Satisfaction bubbled inside him as his dads face fell. He always got like his after sobering up, pulling him back down into the bottle, drowning out his emotions.

‘Dream-’ A slight tremble in his hands, ‘That’s not fair-,’ Of course it wasn’t fair.

It wasn’t fair that when they had needed him most, when they needed someone to replace the role their mother had played in their childhood, in his childhood, he had left. He had been 6- and he lost his mother and his father.

‘Yeah, dad. It’s not fucking fair, to me! You being here isn’t fair! You can’t just opt out of our lives for 6 fucking years and then decide that you want to be a dad again. You can’t-,’ His voice choked, ignoring the tears that threatened to fall, ‘You can’t do that to me-.’

Schlatt, just stood there, mouth slightly agape, he muttered a curse under his breath before wrapping his son in a hug.

‘Don’t fucking touch me-,’ He muttered pathetically, though he made no move to get out of the embrace.

He wouldn’t cry for this man. He refused. He would not cry for an alcoholic, neglectful man who was downright abusive in his drunken rages. He wouldn’t cry because he missed him. He couldn’t.

When Tubbo woke, he thought he was still at home. Well, seeing as which he could hear his brother and father arguing, he must have been. But blinking up at the off-white ceilings with the fluorescent light stinging his eyes, Tubbo Underscore had no clue where the fuck he was.

‘D-Dream?’ It was almost comical how quickly the arguing stopped and his brother was at his side.

‘Tubs? Christ don’t do that again you scared me to death-’

His large clamped over his much smaller, softer hands. It was only then that Tubbo noticed how truly calloused, how scared his brothers hands was. No doubt from all the physical labour he did to provide for their family.  Looking up, his father was there too, which was confusing in its own right, standing at the door, his head bowed down in what seemed to be shame.

‘Dad?’

‘Hey, Toby.’

‘Wha-Da-Dream? What’s going on?’ This day was getting more and more confusing by the second.

‘He just kinda came- sorry kiddo, I tried to stop him…’ Schlatt almost cried at the way his son blinked up at his brother. No child should have to have so many questions about his farther showing up at his bedside.

‘Hey buddy-,’ Taking a step forward, ignoring Dreams pointed glare, refusing to think about his guarded stance.

‘How are you feeling?’

‘Why are you here?’ Tears welled up in his eyes at the disbelief in his eyes when he said,

‘Because I care.’

‘Do you though?’ Dream seethed, ‘Because it seems to take Tubbo almost fucking dying for you to give a shit about us-’

‘That’s not true-,’ Dream let out a dark chuckle, gripping Tubbo’s hand tighter, as Tubbo,

‘Really?’ A wounded sound left Schlatt,

‘Of course.’

‘Tubs- don’t listen to him-,’ He’d made that mistake himself. He had once too fallen into the fantasy of being cared for.

‘Dre-,’ A nurse popped her head in as Schlatt tried to reply,

‘Is this a bad time?’

‘No, no come in, sorry.’ The nurse stepped in, smiling at the family.

‘So we have some good news. The treatment seems to be doing wonders and the liquid seems to be clearing out of Toby’s lungs.’ Before turning to Tubbo, ‘You should be able to leave in a couple of days.’ Tubbo smiled back, gripping Dream's hand tightly. ‘But we do want to keep you overnight under observation, just to make sure you are getting better.’

Dream was seething. How dare, how dare his father get asked to step out to talk in detail about how to look after Tubbo when he went home. He hasn’t done anything. If he was better they wouldn’t be in this situation. As if Tubbo could sense his brother's anger he pulled his brother into the bed,

‘Stay?’

‘Of course.’ Sleep calling him after almost two days of virtually nothing. Lids feeling heavier then usually and Tubbo’s body curled into his allowed for a sense of comfort to wash over him for the first time in forever.

‘So, you’re the father of Toby Underscore, correct?’ Could he even call himself that. Their father? He hadn’t done anything to earn that title. Dream probably couldn’t remember what he used to be like before….all of this…and Tubbo, God Tubbo only knew this version of him, his ex-wife when Tubbo was only 6 months old. It was terrifying how alcohol called him over thinking about what he had become. Why be conscious when you could just be numb?

‘Yes, I am.’

No, I’m not.

‘So, with Toby’s current state, it appears he’ll be able to go home soon but you have to keep an eye on his health. When he was brought in, he was coughing up blood, you have to understand that for a couple of hours of the breathing treatment, they weren’t sure if they could guarantee a full recovery. You can purchase the antibiotics at the hospital pharmacy, the doctor’s already sent over the prescription, he’ll have to take them every 3 hours and no school for at least a week, and no sport for at least a month.’

Schlatt nodded, clinging onto every word. They weren’t sure if they could guarantee a full recovery. They weren’t sure if they could guarantee a full recovery. He hadn’t known that Tubbo had been in hospital until this morning- Tubbo could have died and I wouldn’t have known. The nurse placed a gentle hand on his shoulder before walking away.

Schlatt’s cold heart melted as he re-entered the room. His two boys curled into each other, Dream looking so much younger when he wasn’t scowling, at him.

‘What did I do to you?’ He whispered, not noticing when Tubbo blinked up at him,

‘You destroyed us…’ Schlatt’s eyes snapped up to hold his youngest’s stare, ‘But I still love you.’ Warm tears dripped from his eyes, ‘I don’t know why but I still love you….so does Dream…. he tells me stories of before I was born….he says that you would love me.’ Schlatt inhaled sharply, Dream still loved him, God he didn’t deserve that, he deserved to be hated with every fibre in their bodies. ‘Do you love me, dad?’

Of course I do. But how would you know that? It’s not like I’ve ever acted like it.

‘I’m going to make it up to you. I’m going to be the dad you deserve, you hear me? I’m going to make up for the last 10 years, you hear?’

I’ll make sure you never have to question my love for you.

‘You promise?’

‘I promise.’

The first thing Schlatt did when he took his family home was bring Dream into the toilet,

‘I know, before you say anything, I know how much you hate me. I’m not asking for your love, I’m not asking for your forgiveness, I’m asking for two minutes of your time.’

Dream raised his eyebrows, gesturing to the dozens of liquor bottles on the floor. Without responding, Schlatt picked one up, expertly opened it and poured it down the drain. Looking his son in his eyes, he couldn’t help but notice a slight shimmer, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Dream picked the next one up, scrunching his nose at the disgusting smell he had come to hate with every fibre of his body, and poured it down the drain.

‘You’re going to change for us?’ He whispered as if he didn’t dare believe it.

‘Yeah…I want to be someone you can be proud to call your dad.’

‘This is the proudest I’ve been in years,’ Dream said, picking up another bottle, ‘Thank you.’

After the last of the booze had been poured down the drain, Schlatt wrapped Dream up in his arms, and Dream let himself get lost in his old blue sweater,

‘I thought you threw this away.’

‘Yeah I thought I did too,’ He chuckled, ‘I needed something that still fit- gotta loose this beer gut, don’t I?’

‘I’ve got a friend who owns a gym not too far from here, I’m sure he’d be happy to let you use it.’

‘You think so?’ Before doing a double take, ‘Wait owns?’

‘Yeah, Stephan-’

‘How does he own a gym if he’s still a child-’

‘He’s not? He’s 27-’ The cogs started turning in Schlatt’s head.

Stephan…27…Stephan…Stephan…

‘Tell me you don’t mean Stephan Blakely-,’ Dream cocked his head to the side, the question in his eyes already confirming the worst, ‘Dream. I need you to listen to me. He is not to be trusted. I know I haven’t been a father but trust me, I’ve been in a dark, dark place for years now and trust me when I say that Stephan is not your friend.’

Dream could have gotten angry; he could have yelled saying his dad had no say in this after choosing not to care for years but… but his dad was caring about his safety…

‘Why? He’s protected me for years…’

‘Dream, your 16…. You’re the perfect vessel in his eyes- Has he ever offered to I dunno take you somewhere special- or help you?’

‘Yeah why?’

Schlatt let out a distressed whine, shaking his head,

‘God this is all my fault-,’

‘Dad, what is going on?’ Dream stepped forward, distress as clear as day in his eyes. How does dad know Stephan, ‘What’s wrong?’

‘Stephan,’ Schlatt breathed out, ‘Is a criminal. Well- suspected criminal, he was accused of grooming young boys- around your ages- there was never enough evidence but he’s been put on probation for multiple DUI’s and possession…Dream…he’s dangerous- and I won’t let him hurt you.’ Silence filled the room. All of a sudden, all of Stephan’s little quirks made sense, how he always seemed to be surrounded by men younger then him, how the gym never got a licence, the flash on the bottom of his number plate, God, how had he been so dense? He felt his knee’s go weak as Schlatt surged forwards to steady him, ‘Dream? You ok? What’s wrong?’

‘Tubbo- I let him meet Tubbo-,’ A strangled cry left him, ‘He said he’d look after him while I did my work out- I left my brother alone with a groomer-,’

He had failed, he had failed, he had failed.

‘You didn’t know, you couldn’t have known, Tubbo would have said something if he had done something…he’s a smart kid-,’  But would he have?  ‘Dream, you’ve been so good- so incredibly brave, but I promise you, you’ll never have to be brave again. We’re going to leave this wrenched city, and I’ll take you and Tubbo to a place where you can be kids again, you hear?’

Dream knew it was naïve to nod, that he had been filled with empty promises before, but this one just felt to real. But every day, when Dream would wake up to his father, passed out at the kitchen table, but not with a beer bottle in hand, but instead a pen, with an online university course playing softly from a laptop, it began to feel more and more real.

Within 6 months, his dad found a stable job with an upcoming business, one that desperately needed employees, not being in the position where they were able to be picky. Most may have taken that as an insult, but Schlatt was willing to take anything.

To the small family’s luck, with the company’s budding succuss, only 6 months later Schlatt had been given the offer to relocate for higher pay and work in a new headquarters. Taking the job without hesitation, the family moved into their very first house just around Christmas.

Tubbo had finally escaped the maze of boxes that piled high into their living room, manoeuvring himself until he finally reached the front door, calling out to his dad claiming he’d be back in 15 minutes.

It was no secret that Tubbo was a shy kid, never having the opportunity to make friends back in the city, so that’s how he found himself, perched next to a bush, watching a blond boy attempt to sled across his incredibly flat front lawn, failing miserably, before getting up and trying again. Children had always been a marvel to Tubbo, never really being one himself made him look at his peers as if they were alien, bever truly understanding how they were able to go about their lives so free of care. He stayed for a few more minutes before he heard Dream calling his name.

Chapter Text

Tommy was like lightning in a bottle, a one in a million, someone who could light up a room just by walking into it. There were moments when Tubbo would like to look at Tommy and smile, taking in his boisterous awesomeness.

And it was his job as his best friend and self-proclaimed protector to keep him safe, guarding the softest parts of his heart, the parts he wore on his sleeve. Tommy had always been the centre of the universe, the sun and stars coming to meet him in the middle. That’s how it always should be.

All Tubbo needed was for Tommy to smile like there wasn’t a care in the world, and if it cost his right arm to rid the poison from the depths of Tommy’s mind, he’d do it without thinking. He knew some people would call his mindset harmful to himself, that being so co-dependent on another being, but those people didn’t know Tommy. They didn’t know the way he filled Tubbo’s lungs with oxygen, they’d never heard his laugh, his cries, the secrets he would whisper beneath his covers.

It was almost like Tubbo could feel the anxiety thrumming under Tommy’s skin, running up and down his arms leaving goosebumps in their tracks. Pulling the blond closer so that his shoulder was touching his upper arm, Tubbo smiled up, a crooked smile upon his lips hoping to get a reaction out of Tommy. He had been out of it all day, his eyes kept flittering all over the place, unable to retain focus on anything for less then a couple of seconds before the next noise made him jolt.

‘Hey big man,’ Tubbo said softly, tapping his finger on his hands a couple of times to get his attention, ‘how’re you feeling?’ Tommy just nodded in reply.

Tubbo’s frown deepened, quickly loosing all hope for bringing Tommy back down to earth before they got to school.

‘Hey…wanna just ditch today? Go to the bench? I reckon we both are in desperate need of a break, don’t you think?’ Tommy just nodded again. ‘Akay- let’s go.’

Tubbo takes Tommy’s arm as they cross the road, not fully trusting Tommy by himself. It scared him. How easily he could recognise this Tommy, the Tommy from his lowest point. It had started like this.

Weird little patches of dissociation, moments when Tommy could no longer bring himself out of his own brain, drowning without knowing it. That had only been the beginning, then it turned to days where he could hardly leave his own bed, Tubbo came over after almost a week of Tommy not answering his text, getting more desperate by each passing minute. He found Tommy curled up in his bed, unable to move, unable to cry, unable to feel.

That was the first time Tubbo had wished to hear his best friend cry. It had been Ranboo who had talked him out of calling an ambulance,

‘You don’t understand- he’s not moving, he can’t hear me, I’m going to call 119.’

‘Tubbo-,’ Ranboo hesitate, thinking through his next words carefully, ‘I don’t think that’s a good idea-,’

‘Why not?! I don’t know what’s wrong with him, I don’t know how to help, what if he’s dying?’

‘He’s not dying….he’s disassociated….and depressed….’

‘And that’s different to dying how?’

‘They’ll lock him up if you call them….and I know you’ve known him for longer so it’s your call at the end of the day but I had a friend who was a bit like this….they took him away- and those places aren’t nice to people like him…’

Tubbo bit his lip, looking at Tommy, really looking at Tommy. His blond hair, was now matted and greasy, his eyes were bloodshot and unseeing, this wasn’t Tommy, this wasn’t his Tommy.

 Getting down to his knees he brought his hands up to Tommy’s grimacing when he saw how Tommy had picked his nails raw, caked with dried blood and stands of his hair that he must have ripped out of his scalp in a fit of hysteria.

‘Hey, Tommy….It’s me, Tubbo…’ He didn’t know what he was doing, ‘Wait…just stay here for me…,’ Before mumbling to himself, ‘not that you’d move anyway-’ Before stumbling out of Tommy’s room and downstairs into the kitchen.

He returned moments later with an icepack in hand, ‘please work, please work, please work-.’ He pressed the ice pack to Tommy’s neck, then brought it down his arms before wrapping his stiff fingers around it, hoping the coolness would wash over him, anchoring him back to reality.

‘Hey Tommy, today’s the 13^th, it’s a nice day out today, it’d be nicer if you were out there as well, yesterday it rained for fucking hours…Ms Latch set us a shit ton of homework yesterday…Ranboo almost fell asleep during Mr Youngs’ presentation….you would have laughed….we’ve missed you Big Man, schools not the same without you…’

They stayed like that for what felt like hours before Tubbo felt Tommy stir next to him before letting out a barely audible,

‘T’bo?’ 

‘Tommy? Hey, hey…you with me?’

Tommy slowly nodded, though he was clearly disorientated, but he could feel himself slowly facing reality, Tubbo’s clear voice was scaring the fog that had laid dormant over his mind away. He let out a muffled whine, his voice scratchy from the lack of use but seeing Tubbo’s eyes light up was just enough to make it worth it.

‘Hey Tommy….you gave me a scare, Big Man.’ Tommy whines again, sluggishly shuffling to the side, which Tubbo took as an invitation to get in bed. And so there they lay, Tubbo’s fingers gently carding through Tommy’s hair, lightly scratching his scalp.

‘M’sorry-,’ Tommy mumbles, ducking his head deeper into the covers, ‘I just-’ Tubbo can see the cogs in Tommy’s mind turning- looking for the right words to describe the storm that wouldn’t leave his mind. ‘I just- couldn’t do it anymore….it’s not worth it- like- like the world could stop turning without me and I’d be totally fine with it….. like there’s no point- no end goal for me. Every moment I’m awake for….it’s calling me, Tubs.’ Then in the quietest, most heartbreaking tone every uttered by a human, ‘Tubbo, I’m scared.’

 The smaller brought up a hand to Tommy’s cheek, swiping away at the tears,

‘It is worth is- and even when it feels like it’s not- every day you’re alive, you make me happier. Please- Tommy, I’m begging you- don’t leave me alone on this bitch of a planet.’ Tommy let out a half-hearted chuckle, which then turned into coughing but Tubbo smiled,

‘But we need to talk about it- it doesn’t have to be today- or tomorrow- but one day, we ned to talk- no- you need to talk….if it’s not to me, that fine, but someone….you need help, Boss Man, just- just don’t let yourself suffer alone.’

Tubbo knew that face, that look in his eyes, where the world seemed more distant, colder. Tubbo knew what would happen next, and it was his job to make sure it didn’t.

He let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding in when they sat down at the bench, letting himself sink into the worn-out wood, his fingers running over their initials.

‘What’s up?’ Tommy just shrugged, mumbling something about being tired.

Tubbo never had the heart to tell him that “I’m fine, just tired.” Was his least favourite reply, he knew Tommy kept saying that to protect his conscious, but Tubbo knew he wasn’t fine, that he wasn’t just tired.

All he wanted was for Tommy to talk to him- to help him understand the demons that plagued his mind.

‘Mhm…anything else?’ Tommy shook his head, Tubbo let out a sigh of dismay, before leaning his head onto Tommy’s shoulder, nuzzling into him, begging for him to open up to him.

Tommy’s mind was a hurricane of horrible thoughts…and you can’t stop a hurricane.

Tommy knew he wasn’t ok, that he wasn’t just tired. He had relapsed, that was big, that was something he should talk about. But at the same time, every time he had gone to Tubbo after a relapse ran through his head.

All of a sudden, every disappointed sigh and urge to get away from him just seemed to stand out. He shouldn’t make Tubbo put up with that, that was selfish….he was selfish.

‘I don’t know why I still care.’ He confessed after what felt like minutes of debate. ‘Why should I care about what dad thinks- of what Wil and Tech think. It’s not like they’ve ever cared before…if I should care about anyone’s opinion…it should be yours- you’re the one who’s been there for everything I’ve ever done…every class…..award…every panic attack, every relapse…not dad…not Wilbur- not Tech….,’ He went quiet for a second, turmoil ticking away in his brain before letting out an anguished, ‘THEN WHY DO I STIL FUCKING CARE?!’

Tubbo rubbed circles on his best friend's back as he collapsed back into a fit of half sobs half heaves. It hurt Tubbo, to see his best friend like this. His dad would often tell him that it wasn’t his fault, that he had watched the boys grow up together and how Tommy was just the type who was vulnerable to this kind of mental torture. But that never made it easier. What if he had been better? What if he had cared more- although he wasn’t sure if that was possible. What if he could fill the lifeless halls of Tommy’s house.

‘Of course you care- they’re your family.’

‘They’ve never acted like it.’ Tubbo nodded, he knew what it felt like, feeling as though you were born into a life incapable of loving you. But he also knew what it felt like, being proved wrong…finding out that you were worth loving.

‘I know- I know-. And that will never be ok, I will never say anything to make their actions ok…’

‘I just want a family.’ He cut off, a sentence that absolutely broke Tubbo’s heart. He knew that Tommy had too big a heart for this world, lots of things got you places, but having a big heart….not so much. ‘But I don’t what to forgive them….I know it’s selfish but I want them to know what they did to me.’

‘I’m not saying forgive them…and you will never be selfish for being mad…that is your right, being treated like that will never be ok, you hear?’

‘Mhm.’ Normally, Tubbo wouldn’t have been satisfied with that answer but he knew better than to keep pushing Tommy, so he linked their hands together, to show how even when words fail, actions would pull through.

His heart sank when Tommy winced.

‘When?’ Tommy knew he had majorly fucked up when he winced, usually, he’d be able to keep it in, but he hadn’t seen it coming and he was already fucking exhausted after crying his heart out, trying to keep himself off the edge of a panic attack.

‘Yesterday-,’

‘Thanks for telling me.’ Tubbo would always go clinical after Tommy confessed to a relapse. They both knew the tears would start falling as Tubbo picked up the broken pieces, wrapping a bandage around his bleeding flesh as if it was second nature.

‘Let’s go back to your place, get you patched up.’ The two stood up, making their way back to Tommy’s house.

As the two walked in, Tubbo sat Tommy at the kitchen bench as he reached into the cabinet, pulling out the green first aid kit, while mumbling something about needing to replace the faulty zip for the bazillions time.

‘Can you show me?’ Rolling up his sleeve, Tubbo winced at the sight of 9 cuts, red and angry, they stood out among the other pale white ones. Tubbo could instantly tell they had been done during a breakdown. The ones he did before were always smaller, but in larger quantities, “to keep the feels at bay, Big Man.” Tommy had once joked. Tubbo didn’t think it was very funny. Anything after, there were usually less, but longer, perfectly even and spaced out, the perfect punishment, in Tommy’s eyes. The ones during were always the worst. They were the ones that happened while Tommy had no control, like the sharp rocks that resided on the bottom of a cliff face.

‘Fuck-,’

‘Yeah, fuck.’  The blond gritted his teeth as the disinfectant hit the cuts, burning stings running up and down his arm.

‘I’m sorry- I’ll try make it as painless as possible.’

‘That sounds ridiculously ominous, by the way.’ Tubbo just snorted as he wrapped the gaze around his arm before pulling his sleeve down and returning the first aid kit to the cupboard.

He pulled Tommy into a bear hug, squeezing him tight as he whispered sweet nothings into his ear.

‘It’s going to be ok. You know I love you right? Forever and ever.’ The blond nodded into the embrace, wanting the feeling of warmth to last forever.

He finally let go after a comfortable silence fell over them. Tubbo stood up and poured two glasses of water, handing one to Tommy with a smile. These days were like the storm that ended in a rainbow, and both, without every telling the other, secretly enjoyed getting away from in all pressure that existed outside those doors.

Wilbur wasn’t one for change. When he changed himself, it was like the seasons, summer fell into autumn, he’d shed an old Wilbur and become a better person, when the cold, harsh wind would blow into him leaving him shivering, a shell of his former self, a caring new life would always await him on the other side.

But when other people changed, he couldn’t comprehend it. Why would a person ever want to replace a person that made everyone laugh, that lit up a room with a smile, who was never afraid to be the butt of the joke, with a cold, cut-off person?

Wilbur didn’t understand that, Wilbur didn’t understand Tommy, but what he didn’t understand the most was why Tommy was sitting in their living room with a stranger at the kitchen table…. instead of being in school.

He observed for only a moment before yelling,

‘Tommy- what in God’s name are you doing here?!’ Pointedly ignoring how his brother flinched as he called him name,

‘Wilbur-’ But Wilbur was pissed. His brother, his little brother, the “all-mighty” Thomas Watson, the one who got everything he ever wanted- was deciding to ditch school with some no body- right under their hard-working, never resting dad.

‘Don’t Wilbur me- what the fuck are you doing, skipping school? What the fuck Tommy- I’m disappointed- and all that- that extension class work you were talking about- were you making that up as well? I know you want to look good in front of me and Tech but lying about it then skipping school really wasn’t the way to go about-,’

Tommy ducked his head, shame burning at his cheeks. He knew what this looked like- but it wasn’t- he’d be in school if the sterile lights of the hallway didn’t make his skin crawl, if the constant chatter of the classrooms wasn’t a buzz in his ears that wouldn’t go away no matter how loud the music he blasted into his ears was, if he could feel like he could breathe when he stepped onto those ground, if he could walk into school and feel safe, he would go in. But he didn’t, so spare him the lecture, he knew he was a fuck up.

‘Wow wow wow- first off who the fuck are you?’ Tubbo half yelled, placing his hand onto Tommy’s giving it a gentle squeeze. Wilbur looked aghast, which Tommy would have found funny if he wasn’t trying to keep himself from having a panic attack.

He could feel his breath going staccato, the buzzing feeling of going away into the back on his brain was tempting, but he couldn’t possibly think of something more embarrassing then going bye-bye right in front of Wilbur, who would probably tell dad, which would be a problem in of itself.

‘And second of all- of course he’s in all those classes, Tommy’s like a fucking genius, I’d know, I’m in those classes with him-.’

‘Wait who am I? Who are you?’

‘Tubbo. Tommy’s best friend.’ He grit his teeth, glaring daggers at the taller Watson, ‘and you?’

‘Wilbur. His brother,’ Then turned to his brother, ‘Really? You didn’t think to mention me? How thoughtful of you.’ He spat, venom in his words seeping into Tommy’s skull, the ticking of the bomb ringing in his ears.

‘Did you expect him to?’ Tommy flinched again, knowing exactly where this conversation was going, ‘You left when he was 10. A lot can happen in that time, you’re a stranger. How many people do you know who randomly bring up strangers?’

‘Tubbo-’

‘No, Tommy, this isn’t ok- no one should treat you like this.’

Wilbur rolled his eyes, unable to believe what he was hearing. How dare this kid call him a stranger in his own house. How dare he.

‘Could you stop speaking for my brother for a second? He’s perfectly capable of talking. Why are you skipping school, Tommy?’ The blond's eyes filtered towards Tubbo before looking back at Wilbur. He didn’t recognise his brother, a cold, angry man standing in his place.

‘I couldn’t go today.’ He stated simply, ignoring the blood rushing through his ears. ‘I wasn’t feeling great.’

‘So you skipped?! Dad could’ve called-,’

‘Dad hasn’t called in an absence of mind in 6 years Wil- he’s too busy.’

‘But why’d you skip? You could have told me you weren’t feeling well- I could’ve called, but instead, you did the irresponsible thing, God you’re such a child…’

Something snapped in Tommy’s brain. God, you’re such a child. He wasn’t a child, he was never allowed to be a child. He was a grown-up wearing a child’s skin, he didn’t get the little things like homecooked meals to look forward to, no one had read him a bedtime story since he was 9, he hadn’t been hugged by someone other then Tubbo or Ranboo in months.

He was so fucking tired of being treated like a child and an adult at the same time…

‘Because I had a fucking panic attack Wil. Because I woke up this morning and couldn’t fucking breathe. Just like I felt yesterday, and the day before that, and the day before that. I couldn’t fucking take it. Give me a break, I’ll be back tomorrow.’

The anger seemed to drain out of Wilbur’s face after that, replaced with a sadness he had never seen on his brother’s face.

‘Panic attack-?’

‘Yeah, nothing I’m not used to.’ The blond snapped, standing up and grabbing Tubbo’s wrist, heading back to his room. ‘Let’s go, Tubbo.’

As the pair left, Wilbur stood in the now empty kitchen.

‘What the fuck?’ He muttered under his breath. What in God’s name had happened to his ball of sunshine? His brother. The one he raised. What had happened in the time he was away? He was going to find out if it was the last thing he did.

Chapter Text

‘Tommy?’ Wilbur hollered up the stairs, his hand clenched on the banister. Once again, no reply came. He huffed as he walked back into the empty kitchen, putting the kettle on for a pot of coffee.

Giving up he decided to pull on his coat and go for a walk. Clear his head, smell fresh air for the first time in what felt like eons. Stepping out he found, to his dismay, had hardly changed. His street was still stale with the same air as before-.

The houses that had been there when he was a child still stood proud and strong, the same trees, the same cracked pavement, the same signs that kids would use as a target for their slingshots.

But as he made his way into town, more and more unfamiliar details popped out towards him. The stores that he and his friends had spent their summers in, were gone, replaced by newer, sterile-looking shops.

His favourite bookshop, where he got his first part-time job had been changed into one of those generic-looking shoe shops, an apartment an old couple had owned above their plant shop had been flattened alongside maybe three or four other shops to make way for a supermarket.

Nothing had changed…. but at the same time, everything had changed.

The town had lost its…spark, what made his home his home. Making his way to the corner of the main street, he felt his heart shatter when he realised that the music shop- where he had bought his first guitar- where his mum held singing lessons- where he took Tommy after school every single day…was gone.

The little café had its charm but all Wilbur longed for was the familiar off-white walls, covered in old vinyl discs. Stepping inside, the door made a slight ding as his mouth fell open at the person manning the front desk.

Although her caramel blonde hair had turned a fairy floss pink and was no longer dressed in school uniform, this was no doubt,

‘Niki?!’ The girl’s head snapped up at her name, looking around before her eyes fell on Wilbur.

‘Will?’ She blinked comically, rubbing her eyes before practically leaping over the counter into his embrace, ‘God why didn’t you tell me you were coming back? I thought you were going to wait till Christmas-’

Giving him a light punch on the shoulder before wrapping her arms around him again.

Unlike most people from his hometown, Wilbur actually stayed in contact with Niki, the latter sometimes even visiting him when she could.

The two had been close since the first day of prep. Wilbur could only remember good things about the time he spent with Niki.

Them baking cookies at her place, and even though he was completely incompetent in the kitchen, she’d always giggle as she pointed out how opposites attract.

It filled Wilbur with comfort knowing that his special place was in good hands.

‘Hey, Jack?’ Niki called out,

‘Yeah?’ A voice from the back, presumably Jack responded. He sounded younger than Niki, probably around Tommy’s age.

‘Can you stay in the front for a while,’

An affirmative response came back so Niki dragged Wilbur down the back of café. Niki smiled at the way Wilbur’s whole face lit up when he saw how she had kept up the old band posters and records.

‘I kept as much of it as I could- I thought you’d like it that way.’ Wilbur just nodded, swallowing thickly.

The two talked, reminiscing over past stories,

‘Remember that time you came over,’ Wilbur started, smiling more than he had in what felt like months, ‘and we built a pillow fort with Tech even though we were probably way too old to do something like that.’ Niki nodded, before correcting her friend,

‘No- it was Tommy who built the fort with us, and don’t worry- we weren’t too old to build pillow forts. Hell, Tommy still builds them from time to time.’ She laughs lightly as if she was looking back on a memory he didn’t remember. On a time when he wasn’t there.

‘He does?’

‘Yeah totally. He and his two best friends’ll sometimes come over to my place to have a sleepover with Jack.’

‘Best friends? Who? God, I feel like I’ve missed so much.’ Wilbur asked, brows deepening, ‘…. Jack? Who’s Jack?’ Was Niki seeing someone? Not that he minded, he was just slightly hurt she hadn’t ever mentioned him when they talked-

‘God Wil not like that-,’ She exclaimed, sounding slightly baffled as flicked his forehead, ‘He’s my brother- well, adopted….kinda-.’

This, once again, left Wilbur baffled. Before he could ask the question at the tip of his tongue, she jumped in saying,

‘The only reason I didn’t mention it was Jack wants to keep it on the down low. School was really shitty for him before he moved here because his family situation was never stable. And out of respect to his privacy-,’

Wilbur nodded, only a slight sting left in the wake of her words. But before his mind could tunnel down another rabbit hole a third voice joined their conversation.

‘And as for his best friends, yeah these two boys, Tubbo and Ranboo,’ Wilbur grimaced as the short, angry brunette immediately came to mind. ‘The three are basically inseparable- didn’t Tommy mention them when you guys’ call?’

He didn’t have it in him to admit that he hadn’t talked to his brother in 6 years, that the last time he even attempted to contact him was his 13^th birthday. Happy 13^th. He had written. He refused to acknowledge the pure excitement he could feel radiating from his brothers’ response.

Wilbur? You remembered? You haven’t texted me in ages….awfully rude of you if I do say so myself. How’ve you been? How’s the band? What’s the city like? How’s Tech- he hasn’t texted in ages either. Dad says you’re both busy. I bet you guys are just avoiding my awesomeness.

He hoped he hadn’t been too offended when he decided to leave the younger on read.

‘’Ello folks, what can I getcha today?’ The boy said in a strong midlands accent. He had a buzzed head with a slim jawline and high cheekbones, and a well-worn smile. A simple green Niki’s Café T-Shirt with his name hand stitched, by Niki no doubt, above his left peck. Niki took to introductions,

‘Wilbur, this is Jack, my little brother.’ He gave a small wave, looking up at the boy. ‘And Jack, this is Wilbur Watson. My best friend since forever.’ Wilbur held his hand out to shake, which Jack shook, though he seemed slightly sceptical for a reason beyond Wilbur’s understanding.

‘Pleasure to meet you…. shouldn’t you be in school?’ The brunette said as he shook the youngers’ hand. To which the boy replied with a lame,

‘Nah school is for pussies.’ Niki snorted, muffling it quickly with her hand,

‘His year level has a teachers development day.’ She supplied.

‘Your Tommy’s brother, yeah?’ The boy blurted. Wilbur nodded, slightly surprised that Jack knew of his existence when his brother’s self-proclaimed best friend didn’t.

‘I’m glad someone knows I’m Tommy’s brother. That Tubbo fellow had no clue who I was.’ That appeared to pique Jacks attention,

‘Tubbo didn’t know who you were? Rubbish. Of course he does- he doesn’t shut up about you- I swear to God if I have to hear another Wilbur and Technoblade tale at our next sleepover I’ll throw him out the fucking window.’

He jerked his head back; confusion clear on his face. From what he had gathered from this new Tommy, he wanted nothing to do with his estranged brothers. Jack saw the turmoil on his face, following up with his comment,

‘I’ve never met a guy who idolises his brothers that much. Though- when he gets...sad- I don’t think it helps.’ And with that, he turned on his heels and returned to the counter.

‘He never even took our order.’ In an attempt to lift the suddenly solemn feeling in the room,

‘What did he mean “when he gets sad.”’ Niki just shook her head,

‘That’s not my story to tell-,’

‘Niki please,’ he all but begs, ‘he’s so different- I can’t- I can’t see my little brother in him anymore…’ He trails off, blinking back tears that so desperately want to fall.

‘Wil-,’ she sighed deeply, knowing he only came from a place of good. ‘After you and Techno left…. He wasn’t the same afterwards- he’d come here and just y’know- sit. Then soon after- he stopped coming altogether- I sent Tubbo, Jack and Ranboo to go check on him one day- just to make sure. What they found…wasn’t good-,’

She trails off, quickly wiping a stray tear, which did nothing to calm Wilbur’s growing nerves.

What they found…wasn’t good.

Her words still rang in his head. What wasn’t good? That could mean a lot of things, and Wilbur was a person known for his wandering imagination.

‘Well, that’s enough of depressing subject matters, don’t you think? Tell me how the band’s going, what have you been up to, yknow, fill me in.’

Wilbur, glad to move past the topic of his brothers’ mental health, happily started chatting along about his favourite places to play.

Tommy was vaguely aware that Tubbo was on the phone with someone. Who? He wasn’t so sure, but he was certain it wasn’t his dad, and it wasn’t him, so it was either Niki, Ranboo, Purpled, or Freddie.

He contemplated asking Tubbo who he was talking to-,

‘Ranboo’s coming over.’

Ok, never mind.

He just nodded his head and went back to burying his face into his bean bag.

‘I can’t believe I just did that.’ He groans, pushing down the festering feeling of shame, ‘I can’t believe I talked to Wilbur like that-,’

‘It was fucking awesome. You needed to do that.’ Tubbo pushes back, attempting to reign in the voices he knew were circling around in the blond’s head.

‘But what if he leaves again? Cause I couldn’t keep my mouth shut?’

‘Then I’ll hunt him down, kidnap him, and grate his hands against the sidewalk until it looks like shredded cheese.’ Remind Tommy not to get on Tubbo’s bad side. ‘Anyways, Ranboo should be here in a couple of minutes.’

‘Shouldn’t he be in class?’

‘Shouldn’t we?’

‘Good point.’

It was around his friends where Tommy felt like he could actually breathe when he’s around them, surrounded by their warm reassurances, he could finally drop his mask and shield. When he was around them, he no longer felt like a glass chess piece, unbelonging to either side.

Life would return to his frail breaths, and he’d smile.

‘Hello, hello, my favourite homosapiens.’ The pair look up to see Ranboo, his bushy brown hair blown stuck up like a wall, clearly from running against the wind, ‘the front door was open.’

He seated himself on the black bean bag in the corner, the one specifically assigned to fit his extremely unfair body measurements.

‘Boob boy.’

‘Hey-,’ Tubbo smiled. There had been a point in time when the two hadn’t gotten along.

Well, it was more Tommy couldn’t stand Ranboo, and Ranboo refused to backdown from his friendship with Tubbo. That first term had been hell for Tubbo. Tommy had been straight up hostile towards the new boy, glaring at him whenever they crossed paths in the hallway, jealously clutching Tubbo to his chest to prove to someone that he still meant something to the latter.

‘He’s not usually like this, I promise.’ He reassured, basically begging the taller to give the blond another chance.

‘Really? Cause he seems to hate everyone and everything.’ Tubbo frantically shook his head,

‘I swear. He just….doesn’t like change….it hasn’t been nice to him in the past and I think he’s scared that I’ll leave-.’ Ranboo cocked his head to the side, wondering how such a seemingly confident person could fear anything.

Change for him had always been a good thing. Change meant getting to move here, change had only ever been good to him. He didn’t remember much of his childhood, but there is a woman, with hair as black as the abyss and eyes like shining stars.

His memories of her are light, ones that wisps are thin and hard to grasp, floating away before he can grab at them but he does remember being held by her, having her hands in his hair.

‘He’s harmless-,’

‘Harmless?’

‘Nevermind, that wasn’t the right word. He’s just not used to us not being…just us.’ Ranboo believed he had the right to be upset. The blond had straight-up tormented him ever since Tubbo befriended him.

He, if he did say so himself, was a patient person who gave every person he met a fair shot. But he was honestly at the end of this tether, he had time and time again, tried to forgive Tommy for his brash actions and unfiltered words but he could only take so much.

‘I bullshit. I call bullshit.’

Tubbo ducked his head in what Ranboo assumed was a shame. It wasn’t often when Ranboo swore, so he must have been dead serious about this.

‘He’s been nothing but awful to me- I don’t know what I’ve done to solicit such actions.’

Ranboo knew he didn’t get mad often, but he truly wanted to understand what he did to make the boy hate him so much. But he wouldn’t have dared have opened his mouth if he knew what Tubbo would do next.

With a tiny sniffle he whispered, ‘Please don’t hate him- because if you hate him….t-then you’ll have to hate me too.’ Tubbo was meant to be the level-headed one.

‘Apparently not-,’ Ranboo thought.

‘He’s my best friend. And he hasn’t had it easy, and if you can’t understand that….then we can’t be friends.’

It would take Ranboo a long time for him to finally figure out what Tubbo meant by “He hasn’t had it easy.”

From an outsider’s perspective, some words that people might have affiliated him with were “grenade” “a ticking time bomb” “a shaken up fizzy drink.” But Ranboo knew better now. There were a million different ways you could describe Tommy Watson, but his personal favourite was “baguette”.

Hard on the outside, soft on the inside.

‘How you feeling Toms?’ Ranboo asked, paddling over to the blond, who had curled himself into a ball attempting to shut himself off without anyone noticing.

He got a nod back in response, which wasn’t exactly the answer he was looking for, but it was better than nothing.

‘Bad day, I take it?’

Another nod.

‘I’m sorry to hear that…is there anything we could do to make it better?’

Ah, here comes the standard questioning time.

 He shook his head.

‘Do you wanna watch a movie-,’

Or go for a walk.

‘Or go for a walk?’

God, Ranboo you’re so predictable, mate.

‘Or just sit here, and talk.’

‘We can’t go downstairs, Wilbur’s there.’ His voice was almost completely muffled by the bean bag making Tubbo snort.

‘I didn’t see anyone when I came up-,’ Ranboo pointed out.

‘Wilbur….oh- he left-.’ Really, Wilbur? Real nice. Tubbo seethed. ‘I guess I should’ve seen it coming, huh?’

‘Whatever.’ Ranboo was quick to cut off, ‘It was an arsehole move, so what movie should we watch?’

Tommy shrugged, yelling as he felt two strong arms wrap around his much lankier ones,

‘Tubbo, put me down! Put me down!’ He howled, kicking gracelessly, screaming vulgar profanities as Tubbo hoisted him up onto his feet. ‘What the fuck.’

They ended up rewatching How To Train Your Dragon, Tubbo making the same snarky remarks as he did when they were 10.

 Apparently having close to two mental breakdowns before noon drained ones energy because Tommy found himself slowly nodding off, his shoulder lightly pressed onto Ranboo, who had his arm curled protectively around his torso.

‘Do you know brought this on?’ The taller asked quietly, his hand gently carding through Tommy’s golden locks.

‘Well his brothers are back, and it brought on a relapse-,’ Ranboo’s eyebrows gently quirked up, his expression unreadable to most, but Tubbo could tell the news squeezed his heart in the most horrible way.

‘When?’

‘Yesterday, I think.’ Tubbo says. Ranboo used to wonder why he got so detached when he talked about Tommy’s relapses, when he would want to scream and shout and let the world have it, Tubbo would become reserved and clinical.

‘Not too deep, quite a few though. It’s been three months since the last time. I wasn’t going to take away his sharps, he’s not fallen that far, it was situational.’

Ranboo nods, not ever being one to go against Tubbo when it came to Tommy. ‘But I’ll offer for him to stay over at my place, to yknow, take some of the pressure off.’

‘Father, I have arrived.’ Tubbo bellowed down the hallway,

‘Dad’s still at work, dingus.’ Dream called back, his room door opening, he laughed as he saw how Tommy scrunched up his nose at the sight of him in his “obnoxious vomit green hoodie”. ‘Hey Tommy, ’ello Ranboo, you guy get out of school early or something?’ Tubbo shook his head,

‘Never went.’ Dream seemed to understand the implications behind his brothers words because he turned away from the other two, focusing all his attention to the youngest.

‘You feeling alright? Lemme get you guys some snacks and you can get comfy on the couch or something.’ Tommy always loved Tubbo’s house.

Sure, it was smaller, and didn’t have all the luxuries of his place but it felt like home. Even on the coldest days, you could hear Schlatt’s bellowing laughter filling up the home, sending a warm feeling straight through his body.

‘Akay- can you make fairy bread?’ Dream smiled, and walked into the kitchen, soft clatter filling the quiet house.

He came back in a minute later with a platter of fairy bread, smiling when he saw Tommy’s face light up.

‘One platter of fairy bread made by yours truly.’

‘Thanks, Dream.’ Tubbo nuzzled himself into Tommy’s side, his cheek pressed against his bony shoulder, ‘you feeling any better?’

Tommy nodded, the Underscore household had that effect on him.

‘And hey, Tommy,’ the blond looked up, ‘if you ever need to talk to someone who isn’t these two, I’m always here, kay?’

‘Kay.’

Wilbur was absolutely seething as he read the note that his brother had left on the kitchen bench.

Gone to Tubbo’s, the address is 2312 L’Manburg Rd, just google it. Yes, there’s an adult there. Idk when I’ll be back, dad doesn’t care if I stay out late.

Tommy

2312 L’Manburg road. 2312 L’Manburg road. He knew exactly where that house was, no googling was required. That was Dream’s house. And apparently Tubbo’s. Well, that explained a lot.

Wilbur got along splendidly with most people he knew whether they were teachers or students back in school, or just random people he met in a café, Wilbur was the definition of a people person.

But there was a single person whom he could never get along with, like water and oil he and Dream Underscore just didn’t mix. He had first had the displeasure of meeting Dream through Techno, the two constantly one-upping each other on the sports fields and he, naturally backed his brother over the cocky show-off he barely knew.

‘Open up!’ He yelled, banging his fist on the door, ‘Tommy I know you’re in there.’ God, Tommy, his little brother went to Dream for help over his own flesh and blood?

Unbelievable. ‘Open up!’

Dream had never been a particularly bad person, Wilbur supposed. He usually stayed out of trouble back when they had been at school, unless his two equally dickish friends dragged him into some mindless shenanigans, just as Tubbo would do to Tommy no doubt.

He was just about to bang on the door again just as it swung open answered by an incredible unimpressed looking man. It took Wilbur a nearly embarrassing long time for him to figure out that the person in front of him was Dream.

‘What do you want, Wilbur.’ He stood there with his mouth agape for a few more seconds before snapping out of his shock.

‘You’ve got my brother.’

‘You make it sound like I’ve kidnapped him.’ He almost wanted to reply with “maybe you have” but that felt a bit too childish so instead he said,

‘Seriously Dream. Where’s my fucking brother.’

‘Wilbur?’ A voice called from behind Dream’s tall figure, ‘what are you doing here?’

‘Taking you back home.’ He watched his little brothers head whip from his, to Tubbo, who had joined them, to Dream back to him, before finally landing on Dream, a question clearly prominent in his eyes.

Why had he looked to Dream for confirmation and not him, as if he controlled everything he did. God, he could feel the hate surging through his body at an alarming rate.

‘I don’t mind what you do, as long as you’re comfortable.’ Tommy sent another pleading look with his eyes that seemed to yell please don’t leave me. Dream smiled gently and nodded. ‘I don’t think Tommy wants to leave just yet Wilbur.’

‘That’s not your call to make, Dream.’ The tension in the air could be cut by a knife, it being so stifling that Tommy felt like he couldn’t breathe for the millionth time that day.

‘What about we all go back to Tommy’s place? Then we can keep watching our movie and Wilbur can catch up with Dream because why else would he be here?’ Tommy could collapse in relief when Tubbo opened his mouth, laughing silently at the repulsed look that took over Wilbur’s features.

‘That sound like a splendid idea, Tubs.’ Dream agreed, ‘got everything you need?’

The walk over was uneventful, with Dream using his body as a human barricade to stop Wilbur from getting within a 5m radius, Tommy walked alongside Tubbo and Ranboo laughing over some mindless joke he had made about their awful new history teacher.

‘He’s so incredibly boring…. like the epitome of whiteness…like how much more basic can you get from Mr Jones?’ He half screeched, as the three shuddered thinking back to their class yesterday where he had spent the entire lesson trying to explain the stock market using NFT references.

As the group walked in the back gate, they saw how Wilbur, in a rush to get to Tommy, had left the door wide open.

‘Great house sitter, aren’t ya.’ Dream teased to which Wilbur gritted his teeth and entered his house.

This clearly wasn’t Dream’s first time in the Watson household, Wilbur noted, as he watched the way the blond made his way around the kitchen.

He knew exactly which cupboard was faulty and which draw made an awful squeaking sound if opened too fast- he seemed to understand the kinks of the house better than he did.

In mists of his bubbling anger, Wilbur failed to hear one more person enter the room.

‘Well, this certainly wasn’t what I was expecting to come home to.’ The voice called from the living room as he peered into the kitchen. Dream’s head shot up as if he was a dog whose name had just been called.

‘Well hello, Techno. Long-time no see.’

Chapter Text

Technoblade Watson had never been a particularly confrontational person. That didn’t mean he was a coward, it just meant he kept his cards close to his chest. It meant that he didn’t go picking fights with random people though when had a reputation for…. dealing with anyone who messed with his twin. Which was also an uncommon occurrence, judging from Wilbur’s widespread popularity.

That wasn’t to say this his life didn’t have its downfalls and conflicts, it was just no one wants to remember the times of unimaginable pain and agony, so he chose not to. He would keep moving forward, like a persistent current, never caving, never caring.

He had been like that since early childhood, being quiet for a boy of his age category, most adults just assumed it was to compensate for his much more talkative brother, but it really was just the fact that no one had reminded him to…. make his existence known since his mother passed.

His mother, Kristin Watson had been a true angel on earth, her inviting smile that made you feel so warm, and a gentle hand that would card away every worry. She always had an air of life around her, even when her cheeks grew hollow and a sickly grey tinge coated her skin, her laugh always lit up the room. That’s what she and Tommy had in common.

Even though the two appearances wise were total polar opposites, with Tommy taking on their father’s golden hair and blue eyes, everything else, he shared with their mother. Their laugh, their passions, their reason for living being the people around them- maybe that was why Techno avoided looking at his little brother.

‘Why does mum stay in bed for so long now?’ Little Tommy pesters,

‘Because the doctors told her to.’

‘Why?’

‘Because that’s what her body needs.’

‘Why?’

‘Because humans sometimes….malfunction-,’

‘What’s malfunction mean?’

‘When something breaks down, but just a bit.’

‘Why is Mum malfunctioning?’ Techno pauses at that question, taking in his innocent curiosity.

‘Because, Tommy,’ He wanted to yell, tell him every poisonous thought that runs through his mind when he looked at his little brother, but instead he said, ‘because fate is mean like that.’

He didn’t remember much of the day his mother left. He remembered his father begging his mother to stay with him, then begging the doctor to tell him it wasn’t true.

He remembered the look Wilbur gave their mother's unmoving body, still hooked up to tubes and wires, and bolted out of the room. A nurse had gone after him, not their father, he was too busy trying to peel Tommy off of his wife’s body, the youngest managing to hold onto her limp hand like a lifeline.

A sob tore through his chest and it was the worst sound Techno had ever heard, worse than nails on a chalkboard, worse than being called a disappointment, worse than the cold words of the doctors telling the broken family, “I’m sorry for your loss.”

Any good brother would give an arm and a leg to help in any way possible, offer what little solace the family could muster, Wilbur would have, but he wasn’t Wilbur. Wilbur was a symphony of stories and laughter; he was a million different instruments at once.

Techno, on the other hand, was a soloist, a single piano, he made his own sound, and he had just lost his metronome. He was lost, out of beat with his surroundings but he was just so tired- he didn’t have it in him to care.

The twins had always been close, but ever since the death of their mother, they were inseparable, both silently finding fragments of her in each other. Her love of storytelling shone through Wilbur, a craftsman with his tongue.

And Techno shared their mother’s eyes, such deep brown eyes, from a distance, you’d think they were red. They’d suck you in, inviting, a glint of old timely wisdom hidden behind them.

But with change, came whispers.

Whispers from their neighbours when the family of 5 who were often seen going to the family, a picnic basket in hand, became a group of four.

Whispers from the teachers as they were called into the office time and time again as the offer for a shoulder to cry on was put on the table. They didn’t need a shoulder to cry on, they had each other.

Whispers that would follow them around the hallways at school, classmates doing double takes, offering their condolences, staring as if they were zoo animals. It wound Techno’s anxiety like a venomous snake inside, just waiting to come out and sink its teeth into anyone daring enough to come close.

That was why he had immediately taken an interest in the new student; someone his mother’s ghost couldn’t haunt. He had sandy blonde hair which was always tussled up as if he constantly ran his hand through it.

Techno had yet to see the boy with his tie done up properly or his shirt tucked in which made him laugh as he was yet to meet Mr Wells, who was infamous for patrolling the halls at lunch with a notepad in hand just waiting to hand out a uniform detention.

The boy, who he found out was named Dream from Wilbur’s late-night groaning, had become fast friends with a quiet boy named George in the grade below and a slightly more obnoxious boy named Nick, though for a reason unbeknownst to Techno, was called Sapnap by everyone.

Not a day went by where you couldn’t hear Dream’s laugh that sounded scarily close to that of a kettle boiling over, constantly followed by a “No Sap- don’t…. oh, good Gods-,” followed by another wheeze.

One thing Techno noticed about Dream straight away was that no matter how much mischief they claimed to get up to, Dream was nothing short of a good student, he was never late to class, he never spoke back to teachers, never gave anyone a reason to write him up.

Well…. there was one-time Techno could vividly remember from his school days, the day Dream secured himself in the L’Manburg High Hall of Fame.

‘Mr Underscore you’re late.’ Ms Arnold’s voice was clipped, her half-moon spectacles slipping down her greasy, hammerhead nose. ‘If this was the first time, I’d let it go, but it’s not, so stay after class.’

On any normal day, Dream would have taken it, no matter the fact that he had never been late to class before.

But today was no ordinary day. Everyone could see how tightly wound Dream had been, his shoulders taunt and eye bags heavy, as if he had been forced to carry the weight of the world.

‘This is the first time-,’ Ms Arnold’s eyes snapped up with disgust.

‘Are you speaking back to a teacher, Dream? That’s highly disrespectful and I don’t know how you did it back at your old school but not here. Here we actually respect your teachers.’

‘Yeah, sorry-,’

‘Sorry won’t cut it. Teenagers these days are just so lazy. How will you prevent yourself from being late in the future, perhaps not staying up all night gaming, or actually taking responsibility and acting like the young adult you are.’

That seemed to strike a chord in Dream’s heart because his gaze immediately hardened, and Ms Arnold had to physically stop herself from recoiling under his glare.

‘Would you like to share with the class what you’re thinking? Or would you like to keep glaring at me?’

‘Yeah, I would, thanks. I’ve been late for your class, once. My brother woke up this morning only for him to throw up his dinner, by then dad had already gone to work so I was waiting on him to come back home before even considering leaving him because I refuse to make that mistake again. So, my sincerest apologies, my family comes before whatever bullshit you’re yabbering on about.’

His eyes flickered between the teacher and Sapnap, who adorned the most shit-eating grin before storming out of the class and heading to the library. Screw the consequences, he’d deal with the repercussions later- no one, and he meant no one got to talk about his family like that. As if they knew what happened behind closed doors, the battles they had conquered to be where they were today.

‘Well, hello, Techno- long-time no see.’ Techno smirked at the livid expression on his twin’s face as he replied with a nonchalant nod.

‘Tell him to get out.’ Wilbur seethed; his hands clenched around his sides like a whiney child.

‘He’s been encouraging Tommy to skip school-,’ the older blond’s eyebrows shot up at that, a slight shake in his head as he made eye contact with Techno.

‘Really?’ He drawled, sounding for the most part, uninterested, ‘Dream? Care to explain?’

He wanted to ignore the way his little brother seized up at that, sending a longing look towards the former.

‘That’s not my story to tell. If Tommy wants to tell you something, he’ll tell you.’ He said firmly, turning away from Wilbur and once again focusing on the three younger boys, who he still had no idea who they were.

They were an odd-looking bunch, an incredibly tall boy who had almost a head over Techno stood in the corner, a softer presence in comparison to the much shorter brunette who looked ready to blow the Watson household to the high heavens.

‘You know what? Why don’t you guys go hang out in Tommy’s room for a bit and I catch up with your brothers?’

From the corner of his eye, he could see Wilbur smile.

Tommy absolutely detested being told what to do, well at least, he used to. And knowing his twin, he was counting on his brother’s explosive personality to finally bring some normalcy to this…. well whatever this was. Except…. that never came.

Instead, to Wilbur’s absolute dismay, Tommy gave Dream a quick side hug and jogged up the stairs, his two friends in tow.

‘So- Wilbur, Techno…. it’s been what? 5? 6 years? I’d ask you how you’ve been but frankly…I don’t care.’ His twin let out an undignified squark, before he quickly schooled his expression, going back to his signature side-eye.

‘What the fuck man? You waltz in here like you own the place- you act like Techno and I aren’t Tommy’s brothers- I don’t know what your problem with me is but I’d like you to stop. It’s childish and quite frankly, embarrassing.’

Techno can’t help but wince as he recognises the start of one of his twins’ “rants”. All though he had never been a particularly strong fighter, his slender frame and short temper didn’t help but it was a given that he was a master with his tongue.

The captain of the debate team in his second year of high school, a complete natural in building people up with delicate words, sifting through every insecurity, giving them a backbone of confidence, but behind those warm chocolate eyes laid a glean of cunning knowingness.

As if he knew that just as quick as he built someone up, he could tear it all away without even breaking into a sweat. But before Wilbur could continue, Dream cut him off.

‘You’ve just described yourself, Wilbur.’ Not even a hint of rage laced in his words. Instead, there was just a seemingly undetectable sense of disappointment. ‘You left him for 6 years, Wilbur, a lot can happen in that time, a lot has happened. And when he needed a role model, a big brother, you weren’t there, I was. And I’d never call myself Tommy’s brother, not unless he wants me to, but I’ve been there for him through his highs and lows, and if I’m being frank with you, it’s you who’s acting childish, it’s you who’s being selfish. You don’t know what he’s been through, when he needed you, you weren’t there. And God knows Phil wouldn’t have been there for him- the guys barely ever around…’

During Dreams’ entire rant, Techno stayed silent. Unable to think of a response that would make him anything less than what Dream was describing. Then he turned his attention to Techno.

‘And you. Jesus fucking Christ. The kid looks up to you so much- like the stories I’ve heard- he wanted you to just call every now and then, remind him that you still cared-,’

‘Of course we care about him-,’ Wilbur scoffed, though lacking its usual bite.

‘Do you though? I’m sure you think that…but does Tommy? Do you think he knows that you care? Cause I’ve been watching him for 6 years- and I don’t think he does.’

Techno wanted to be sick. Sure, over the years he had considered coming home during the holidays, calling his dad more often, and sending Tommy a text every now and then but every time he even got close, he was reminded of the reason he left all over.

He would never be allowed to move on from the town he had once called home if he himself never learnt to let go.

Being unable to bare looking at the town the same when he stopped being able to feel himself getting pushed on the swing by his mother, when he stopped seeing her in his dreams- when the last photo he had of her was on Tommy’s 5^th birthday, any taken after, he couldn’t bear to look at, only seeing the sickness taking over her through hollowed cheeks and a rattling breath.

He stopped calling the town home when everything reminded him of a woman he could no longer remember. And so, his nightly calls became weekly, then monthly, only for them to morph into a half-hearted text every now and then.

Deep within his bones, he felt a pang of chilling guilt slowly creep into the corner of his mind, it was startling to him, to realise that he felt…guilt.

‘O-of course he does-,’ But it sounds more like a question than a statement, his voice weak and flimsy. ‘He’s our little brother…. we love him….and he loves us.’ Wilbur tries to say firmly but misses his mark, again.

 Another thing Techno notices is that Dream, all of a sudden doesn’t seem mad, instead there’s another emotion glossing over his eyes…...

Pity.

‘I hate it, Tech, I hate it…’ Wilbur shouted as angry tears slipped down his cheeks, ‘everyone keeps treating me differently- even Niki- like I d-don’t need to be reminded that she’s gone- I’m th-the last person who would forget-.’

And Techno nods along, resonating with Wilbur’s words a scary amount.

‘And the teachers- they keep treating me like glass- “Would you like extra time on your test, Wilbur?” “Do you want an extension, Wilbur?” “Do you want to talk about it, Wilbur?”’ He spits out angrily as if the words are bitter in his mouth. ‘No, I don’t want to fucking talk about it- I just want you to treat me like everyone else-.’

Techno’s fingers gently rubbed against his twins’ scalp, trying to brush away every dark thought that came to him, they’re mother had been everything to the two boys, and now…she was gone.

‘I know, Wilbur, I know. But they only have our best interest in mind…even though it’s just pity.’ Wilbur grimaced, knowing that the brothers shared the exact same view on pity. ‘And I know that if they just left us alone, and let us deal with it, it’d be better. That if they didn’t pretend like they knew her just so we’d talk about her, it’d be better. And if-,’ he took a deep breath, ‘If they treated us like we were human, it’d be better. But they don’t. Because people are fucking dumb and if they think the best way to help us is by treating us like glass then the best thing to do is just let ‘em.’

His twin buried himself deeper into his hoodie, clutching onto the fabric as if it were a lifeline, weak sniffles filling the room once again. It truly made his blood boil, pity, that was.

The way everyone acted like they had all known their mother, the way they talked about her as if she was an old friend. Every little interaction the family shared was put on full display for the town, they whispered as if their family- their mother was nothing more than some women featured on the front of a teen magazine, caught in an outrageous scandal as if they knew everything about her, and her life.

‘Then act like it.’ Dream growls, ‘act like the family you claim you are to him, and maybe- just maybe- get your incredibly oblivious excuse of a father to contribute to his life!’ Techno gulped.

Ever since he had gotten home, his fathers’ absence had been growing more and more obvious. As if a puzzle piece had finally completed the picture enough he could finally see the prison Tommy had been enduring by himself for the last 6 years.

Dad didn’t cook dinner for him anymore, Dad didn’t go to his school events, Dad didn’t know he was losing his son, the poor boy slowly drowning in his silent misery.

‘We will.’ Techno said, jumping in right before Wilbur could start up another verbal battle, ‘we will.’

Soon after, the boys came downstairs, curious as to why the hushed whispers had stopped altogether. Tubbo and Ranboo stood in between Tommy and his brothers, acting as a human shield. The three, Dream, Tubbo and Ranboo left soon after, giving him a tight long squeeze, all whispering reassurances in his ear.

‘If they give you any grief, any at all, call me- or just turn up I don’t care.’ Dream whispered. Tommy nodded, finding a familiar comfort in the olders’ presence. And with one last hug, the door gently clicked shut, leaving Tommy with his brothers alone for the first time 6 years.

Chapter Text

This was inevitable. He knew that this was inevitable, but that still did nothing to calm the sound of this thundering heart in his ears.

There he stood, for the first time in 6 years, Tommy stood in a room his brothers, counting down the seconds until he could get the fuck out of there.

Yeah, he was having a great day, how about you?

He tried to ignore the enraged look on Wilbur’s face as he tilted his gaze up to him, a storm raging within his eyes.

‘Should we sit down?’ Techno. His saving grace. Filling the silence up with something so simple, yet so hard.

Tommy nodded, his shoulders hunched up to his neck as he slumped over to the couch in the living room, taking the corner seat and pressing himself up against the velvety armrest.

‘So, you know we’re going to have to talk about whatever just happened, right?’ I don’t have to talk about shit, bitch. Is what Tommy wanted to say, instead, he mutely nodded, refusing to draw his eyes up from where they were trained on the ground.

‘What he means, is, do you want to talk about what just happened?’ Techno’s deep voice reverberated through the thick silence.

Tommy wanted to shake his head, he wanted to let his brothers sink in the guilt of their actions, or lack of them. He wanted them to suffer as he did for years…but at the same time- just talking to the people who started the butterfly effect seemed so…hypnotising.

And that’s how Tommy found himself quietly starting to talk.

‘I think Dream overkilled it a bit- he’s like that. But no- I’m fine…just your normal teenage angst.’ Wilbur’s brows furrowed at how quick Tommy was to invalidate his own feelings.

‘That doesn’t matter. We want to hear whatever you have to say….to y’know…make up for lost time.’ Tommy instinctively curls on himself, trying to run away from the reality of his situation.

‘You sure?’

‘Of course.’

So, Tommy started talking, this time for real.

‘It hasn’t been the same since she left-,’ Techno sucked in a harsh breath, not expecting him to start with that. ‘Before we were a family…. then she was gone…and you guys left as well-.’

That confused Wilbur. He understood what Tommy meant by missing their mother, they all did…but he and Techno never left- sure dad threw himself into his work to drown out his grief but he and Techno took over their parents’ role in Tommy’s life.

‘And before you say anything I know guys gave up your childhood for me…that was the problem, I suppose. I knew that every day you spent with me you didn’t want to be there. And I’ll never hold that against you- you guys were teenagers and I was like a hyperactive 7-year-old. I guess I just tried to ignore it for as long as possible…but I could tell. It wasn’t hard to figure it out- you guys were never quiet.’

Wilbur ducked his head in shame, remembering all the fights he had during his teen years. It was hard, remembering a time when just being in the same room as his father lit a fuse within him, but it was even harder finding out that his brother, his baby brother had been listening the entire time.

‘Then you guys left- I tried to be the perfect brother to keep you but I still drove you guys away- and it was all my fault, but I couldn’t bring myself to admit that-,’

‘Tommy no-,’ Wilbur crooned, ‘we didn’t leave because of you. What lead to us leaving…well there was a lot but none of it was you…never, we would never have left if our teenage stupidity hadn’t blinded us.’

‘Yeah, but I thought that… and it didn’t help that after you left dad got even busier. I was so alone-,’

And it was truly the most heart-wrenching sound. The raw anguish in his voice, the sadness of genuinely believing his brothers left because they could no longer bear to be around him.

‘And the kids at school found out….and you know high school…people’ll look for anything that’ll make you feel shitty. For me, that was mum and the fact that I seem to drive away every good thing in my life- well except for Tubbo- but he got shit because of that.’

‘I’ll kill them, Tommy I swear. Just tell me who and I swear I’ll make sure they never bother you again.’ Techno said as Wilbur drew him into a stiff side hug and whispered,

‘You better of not have believed them. None of this was your fault…you didn’t deserve that.’

‘But that’s the worst part I suppose. It was so easy for them to convince me because they didn’t have to lie. They never had to make up scenarios in my head because everything they said had already happened. The second I got home, all the comments about no one being able to stand me- it all became as real as the bruises they gave me.’

Techno shifted as Wilbur let out a pain whine as he whispered into Tommy’s ear what he assumed to be reassurances of their love. But Techno’s skin itched from the thought of someone laying a hand on Tommy, on his little brother. The one person he swore to protect. He wasn’t there to protect him when he needed him- he had was, failing Tommy. Tommy continued,

‘Dad’s been busy- and I’ll never blame him for working hard, but h-he hasn’t shown up to a school event in 5 years- he hasn’t cooked me dinner in 4- he doesn’t even look at my report cards anymore… I know it’s stupid- but I try so hard in school- I got an academic award last year for best all-rounded student and he doesn’t even care-.’

The last part of the sentence revolved into shaky sobs that wracked his thin frame making seem even smaller than usual. Wilbur was at a loss for words.

He and his father had faced their fair share of ups and downs, especially after their mother’s passing and him being completely head over heels into his teen years but after life knocked him down, his father was bound to be waiting at home, his arms opened in a welcoming hug.

He couldn’t imagine not having someone like that around for Tommy.

‘But then I remember the good days when I’d come home from school, and he’d make me a snack and let me shred some documents while we waited for you guys to come home. Then one day…it just stopped.’ And no one could convince me it wasn’t my fault.

‘Tommy,’ Wilbur said, lifting himself off the couch and in front of Tommy. ‘I’ll be the first to admit we failed you as brothers and as a family. How I’ve acted since I got home isn’t fair to you nor is it fair to the people who were there for you and cared for you when I wasn’t.

‘And as much as I can’t stand Dream, I’m willing to put aside our differences to make sure you have as much positive reinforcement in your life, and I’m also ok with me not being that for you, but I’m going to try my hardest to be your brother again-,’

But before Wilbur could even finish his apology, all the air left his lungs as Tommy barrelled into him, clutching Wilbur’s yellow sweater in balled fists.

He should have been mad, a little voice in his head chided, they left him for years a quick apology was all it took for his iron walls to come caving in? God, it was pathetic- but he just wanted a hug. A warm embrace that he had been kept from for so long.

Sure, Tubbo and Ranboo hugged him. So did Dream and Schlatt gave him the occasional head ruffle, but it wasn’t the same as Wilbur. Who would wrap his long slender arms around his neck as he latched onto his torso, how no one else could ease all his worries by just placing their chin atop his head. There was no one like Wilbur.

So, ignoring the feeling of needing to stay mad, the need to make him fight for his love once more but it wasn’t like his love for his brothers had dwindled over the years, he only lost where to direct all that love.

And it showed, it showed in the way tears clung to his eyelashes and how he gripped his brother’s back as if he was scared he would disappear again. As the brothers broke apart Tommy stared into Wilbur’s deep brown eyes and saw nothing but love, unwavering love, the kind of love that wouldn’t leave…. but that was the same love he saw 6 years ago-.

‘You can always, always talk to me, Toms. About anything and everything. And it’s ok if you don’t want to. I know I have to earn your trust back but when you think you can trust me- I’m here.’

‘Same with me, Theseus, same with me.’ Techno’s voice rumbled next to him.

‘Oh.’ Tommy said, looking confused at the mere notion of having someone be there for him. Wilbur’s heart sank.

‘Have you not had anyone to talk to this whole time?’

‘Uh, no?’ Tommy mumbled as if it would be obvious that he should be alone in this.

‘What about friends,’ Wilbur pressed,

‘I mean other than Tubbo and Ranboo- but I don’t want to overstep with them either so…’

‘Tommy.’ Techno said, a firm hand resting on his shoulder. ‘From what little I’ve heard about those two, they seem to care about you a ridiculous amount. Not ridiculous like it’s ridiculous for them to care about you but the amount they care is unfathomable. They’re a one in a million, Toms.’

‘I know, I know.’ He replied softly. Fully understanding how lucky he was to have Tubbo and Ranboo by his side, through thick and thin. ‘I don’t know what I’d do without them.’

‘How long have you known them?’ Techno asked, pulling himself back atop the couch, Tommy following in pursuit, Wilbur still seated on the floor, his back pressed on the couch,

head gently resting on Techno’s knee.

‘Tubbo since grade 5 so almost 7 years now, met him not too long after you guys left. And Ranboo since year 7. We simply are the dynamic trio.’

‘Isn’t it meant to be a dynamic duo?’

‘There’s three of us.’ Tommy stated as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, which wasn’t far off from the truth Techno supposed.

‘Of course.’

‘Yeah, it’s kinda funny, walking into class at the start of the school year and you can just tell what all the teachers are thinking. “Oh we’ve got another Watson, oh the Gods have blessed us once again!”’

Tommy snickers, doing his best teacher impression, his voice going all high and squeaky.

‘And then they get to know me and it’s like someone’s gone and tipped a bucket of ice water on them. I’m pretty sure they’ve nicknamed me The devil child: mutuals to the women.’

 Wilbur lets out a howl at that, being able to clearly picture his brother causing all sorts of chaos at his old school, giving good old Ms Bats heart palpitations every Monday.

‘You know, once we talk to dad, like have a proper talk with him we can get him to meet Tubbo and Ranboo and….’ Wilbur trails off as he sees that look he hates so much take over Tommy’s eyes, the glassy one, the far-away one. ‘But only if you’re comfortable-,’ Wilbur

rushes, refusing to let his brother go again.

‘Yeah…. yeah I’d like that…you’d love them- Ranboo, for awkward as he seems, he’s on the debate team, and he’ll probably be captain next year,’

Wilbur smiled, remembering his days of being the debate captain, the joy he got when he saw the adjudicator smile at him after he finished speaking and the gobsmacked look his opponents got as they realised they were going to have to attempt to rebut his bullet proof argument.

‘He’s “got that way with words” and Tubbo, Christ don’t even get me started with him. He’s a fucking genius- like we’re both in the extension class but I’m nothing compared to him.’

‘He’s got all these crazy gadgets and gizmos- and literally last week we got a lunchtime detention because we “were practising unsafe behaviour on school grounds” which is just a fancy term for we kind of accidentally blew something up in the robotics lab again but oh my God it was awesome-’ Tommy gushed, a smile overtaking his features as he went on and on about his best friends.

Wilbur smiled, wanting that calm happiness on his brother’s face to stay there permanently. The kid had already gone through so much at such a young age but of course, everything good they shared, life had to come and bulldoze through it, for better or for worse.

He hadn’t been looking- he really hadn’t- but where he was sitting combined with the misfortune of looking upwards at his brothers at the exact moment Tommy stretched out his arms; his top lifting up exposing his concave stomach whilst his sleeve fell down.

Wilbur’s stomach fucking sank.

The angry red lines were a stark contrast to his concerningly pale skin, angry and jagged. He had to blink a few times to make sure he was really seeing what he was seeing and it wasn’t a trick of the light or some awful prank or- no…. they were really there.

Some clean, others messy, white, pink, red. There were all real, and Wilbur felt the air leaving his lungs. It felt like a sick game of Where’s Wally? - finding cuts on his little brother’s stomach almost completely hushed up by time, only leaving a whisper of a trail.

Tommy must have noticed how his brothers’ airy laughter had been cut short as he looked down, a question in his eyes that seemingly got answered the second he saw Wilbur’s expression.

He slams his arms down back to his sides, tugging so hard at his sleeves that Wilbur’s scared the fabric will tear. Techno jolted out of his cordial scrolling through his emails, looking back and forwards between his brothers, confused when he saw tears pricking the corners of Tommy’s sky-blue eyes. He was even more confused as to why Wilbur looked like he was ready to be sick.

‘T-Tommy?’

‘Don’t-.’ The blond half whispered half yelled, ‘don’t fucking look at me- don’t look at me- don’t- I didn’t- I’m not- stop.’ He cried, tears now dripping down his hollow cheeks before jumping to his feet with an awkward wobble before running out of the room, the cuffs of his hoodie still balled up in his fists.

‘What-?’ Techno asked, pushing himself up to face his brother.

‘Oh my God, Techno there were so many.’

‘So many what, Wil? So many what?’ Wilbur just shook his head, his pupils blown wide with fear, ‘you’re really scaring me here-.’

‘Oh my God, Tommy-.’ Tears glistened in his eyes as he turned on his heels and followed after his brother, Techno, of course, followed.

‘Mind telling me what’s going on?’ Wilbur didn’t answer, instead, he bound up the stairs 3 at a time not caring about the booming thuds he sent through the house. Arriving in front of Tommy’s door the brunette started frantically knocking.

Calling out,

‘Toms- Tommy? H-hey Tommy, I need you to say something…anything- just let me know your not…’ Wilbur trailed off as he heard sharp gasps coming from behind the door.

‘That’s it. If you don’t let me in now, I’m coming in.’ He warned, trying not to let his voice waver as he pictured his little brother alone and scared, tears streaming down his face not knowing what to do.

He ruined everything. He fucking ruined everything. Tommy sobbed as he slammed his head into the wall from where he was sitting, back against his door. His brothers were willing to be his brothers again, he wasn’t going to be alone, and things were looking up for him…and then he had to go and ruin it. Just like he always did.

Another choked sob shuddered through his body as he gripped his knees towards his chest, trying to keep himself from flailing like a fish out of water. He was on track to get his family back and now- and now Wilbur knew what a pathetic, useless, unwanted person he was. He had lived this story before; he knew how it would go.

Wilbur thought he was weak. He had it good, he knew that. He knew how lucky, how privileged he was. How his father, worked day and night to give him the world, and all Tommy did was complain.

Most kids his age would give their right arm to have the freedom he was entrusted with. Wilbur and Techno hadn’t been able to do anything by themselves, constantly being stuck with Tommy, their dad had never left him alone, insisting that he had to be at every single one of Wilbur’s concerts or Techno’s fencing competitions. But he couldn’t even see how good he had it when it was right under his nose.

More angry hot tears ran down his face, nausea billowing in his gut as he thought about how at some point, he would have to face his brothers at some point. His arms snaked their way up his sleeve without Tommy evening being fully conscious of his actions until his nails started furiously scratching at the cuts that had already scabbed over, the crusted skin breaking open to bleed once more. He felt himself take in a full gasp of air since he fled from the living room.

‘Toms- Tommy? H-hey Tommy, I need you to say something…anything- just let me know you’re not…’ His brother called, knocking on the door, although Tommy couldn’t understand why he sound so…heartbroken.

He let out a choked whine at the thought of his brothers coming in to rub salt in an open wound, to laugh at him, to scold him, to aim for the most venerable part of him: his mind.

‘That’s it, Tommy.’ Wilbur called and he barely had enough energy to scoot away from the door and bury his head in his knees, wrapping his too-gangly arms around his body, not even caring if he got blood on his hoodie. He heard the door open with a whoosh and his brothers stepped in, creaking the floorboards as they rushed to his side.

‘Oh my God, Sunsh- Tommy.’ Tommy shuddered as he heard retract the nickname he had called Tommy as a child, as he took back what little affection he held so dear to his heart. Wilbur fell silent as he saw the blood stains seeping through his hoodie.

‘Tech- get the first aid kit?’ Before wrapping an arm around Tommy and pulling him into his chest. Confused as anyone who found themselves in his position would be.

‘W-what?’

‘I’m so sorry, Tommy.’

‘What?’ He was starting to feel like a broken record.

‘I’m so sorry you were hurting so much- you are hurting so much…I should have been there for you, but I wasn’t and I promised to look after you until the day I died and I didn’t do that.’ He shook his head, his blond curls ruffling against Wilbur’s neck.

‘No, you didn’t-’

‘Don’t spin me a story to make me feel better. I wasn’t a good brother, ok? Nothing you say if going to change my mind because I refuse to disregard the facts any longer. The only thing you can do is acknowledge that it’s not- and never will be, your fault.’

Tommy fell silent. A million different responses ran through his head but he could voice a single one, so he just burrowed himself further into Wilbur’s sweater, closing his eyes until Techno walked back in with the first aid kit and inevitably made him show them his cuts.

‘Wilbur you better explain to me what in fuck is going on.’ Techno hissed as he walked back into the room with the first aid kit in hand. Wilbur ignored him, instead turning to the youngest and softly whispering,

‘Hey Tommy…do- do you think you could lift up your sleeve for Techno? I’d do it if he wasn’t much better equipped in medical knowledge.’

Tommy’s head hung, letting his hair cover his eyes in shame as he stuck his arm out, his sleeve falling just below his wrist. Techno let out a sharp gasp as he registered what he was looking at. What seemed like hundreds of thin white lines stained his porcelain skin.

‘Theseus-,’

‘Don’t…please-,’ he pleaded. Techno, unable to fight the hurt away from his brothers’ voice just nodded and gently took his thin wrist in his own, much larger hand. Slowly, he started wrapping the clean white bandage, wincing when he saw how perfect lines of red started to show.

‘You have to hold a tissue until the bleeding stops.’ He called softly. Techno’s heart sinking even more at the air of expertise that surrounded his words. ‘There’s a roll of toilet paper in the second draw…’

True to his words, when Wilbur opened up the second draw, there was half a roll of toilet paper, nausea rolling over him when he picked it up and something shuffled out from underneath it.

A sadness of a thousand seas roared in his ears as he came to realise it was a blade. Peering further into the draw, Wilbur paled as he stared into a vat of dust, scrunched-up tissue and blades.

He carefully reached in, picking them up and placing them in his pants pocket. Tommy didn’t have the heart to tell him that was his sick, twisted version of a memento, a prize for still being here.

Once Techno finished wrapping his arms, hiding the hideous markings away from the world until he slipped again, he burrowed his thin frame into his chest.

The slow thump, thump, thump of his heart scaring away the whispers in the back of his mind, relaxing him enough that he started to feel his eyelids get heavy, letting his head lull from side to side. And with Techno’s hand in his hair, Tommy finally fell asleep.

‘What happened to him?’ Techno whispered hopelessly as Wilbur walked back in after returning the first aid kit. ‘When did we lose him?’

‘When we stopped being his brothers- Tech this- this is our fault.’ Angry tears clung to Wilbur’s long eyelashes, shame sizzling from his cheeks.

‘He’s only 16-,’ Helplessness coating Techno’s words, ’16 and doesn’t see the point in living.’

‘He’s not fucking suicidal.’ Wilbur hissed.

Techno had it in him to be mad. To tell his twin to be fucking reasonable but he knew that all Wilbur wanted to do was to convince himself that Tommy, was still their Tommy.

‘Wilbur, he’s cutting his skin open to punish himself. People who feel the need to punish themselves to that extent don’t exactly see the point in living-,’ he trailed off when he saw Wilbur’s gaze glued to the floor, tugging down his sleeves past his knuckles.

‘Wil- I didn’t mean it like that….’ Because this wasn’t the first time the twins had dealt with self-harm, because Tommy wasn’t the first Watson to felt like they were drowning with the lifeguard just ignoring them.

‘I didn’t want to die, Tech.’ He said with a hush voice, ‘I just wanted help, and in my eyes, it worked.’

Techno first found him in their first shared apartment not even 6 months after moving away, with a blade in his hand. The cuts had barely broken skin, a slight puffiness being the only sign that he had ever even taken a blade to his wrists.

Techno had pulled him into a long hug, the two falling asleep together, their legs getting tangled up in each other after Wilbur had whispered his “sorry’s” over and over like a broken record. Techno had then replied to that with,

‘I don’t want your sorry, in fact, it should be me who’s sorry, for not noticing. But I want you to stop, and when you feel like this you come to me, ok? Not the blade, not cheap booze, not a cigarette, me.’

‘But I don’t-,’

‘I know, but still. Do you understand?’ Wilbur nodded before falling asleep, this head tucked carefully under Techno’s chin.

After that night, Wilbur started attending weekly therapy sessions and soon his smile returned to his face and music once again, filled their tiny 1-bedroom apartment.

With Tommy- Techno didn’t think it would be that simple.

Chapter Text

The clouds had finally broken over the cold- not as empty Watson house when Tommy first opened his eyes, wincing as the light assaulted his lifeless eyes making his rapidly forming headache more apparent. He groaned as he rolled over, squeezing his eyes shut as he tried to shut out everything that had gone down the previous evening freezing when he rolled into another body.

‘’ommy?’ Wilbur mumbled; sleep laced in his voice. When Tommy failed to reply, his brothers' eyes flew open his eyes wide with fear, only relaxing when he found his little brother still wrapped in his lanky arms as he was when they fell asleep. ‘Hey, Sunshine.’

Tommy froze as the small term of endearment left his lips- he had lost all rights to be Wilbur’s “Sunshine” eons ago…he was a murderer…. a selfish, overly sensitive, ungrateful murderer….and after considering last night's performance-

They hate you.

They’re disappointed.

You disappointed them.

Tears pricked Tommy’s vision but, in his opinion, it was too early to cry so he did what he did best; he brought his shield back up. The one thing that had protected him, hug him away when a storm raged on inside his head, his over-the-top, often frowned outbursts of violent words.

‘What the fuck-! Get off me!’ He shouted, trying to escape Wilbur’s prison. This only seemed to make his older brother's viper grip tighten as he nuzzled his face into Tommy’s curls and whispered,

‘You scared me so much, Toms. So, so much-,’ Voice wavering, a quiver so real sounding Tommy couldn’t help but feel confused.

Why- why was there a softness to his tone he hadn’t heard since he was missing his two front teeth, a softness he didn’t deserve.

You’re manipulating them.

‘S-stop it Wilbur- get off me-.’ He whined, cheeks turning red as his eyes darted around his room in search of an escape he desperately needed.

You don’t deserve this.

A storm churned within Tommy’s heart too big for the world. The cold cascade of numbness swirled within him, begging for him to feel something…but he couldn’t.

Feelings get you hurt, wanting…yearning whatever this was got him hurt, believing that Wilbur would stick around after he figured out that Tommy was just an attention-seeking, loud, childish, annoying brat just like everyone said he was- he would leave again....and Tommy couldn’t take another heartbreak.

Desperate to get free, Tommy started another wiggling attempt, only to Techno to walk into his two brothers, wrestling it out on this scratchy-ass carpet.

‘Well- I was going to tell you I’ve made breakfast, but I think I’m going to continue to watch whatever the fuck this is a little longer….’ Pausing to look the two up and down, ‘you may proceed, gentlemen.’

Wilbur, of course, being the bitch that he is, proceeded to wrap his legs around Tommy’s torso and rubbed his knuckles against his skull.

‘Ow-! Fuck you, Bitch.’ He cried, ignoring how obliviously careful Wilbur was being, his knuckles barely scuffing his hair. Ignoring the playful huff that left Techno, the unprotected love they were giving him.

No trap, no trick, no malicious intent in sight- yet he couldn’t help but feel as if he was a mouse being presented with a mousetrap, completely unassuming and innocent, yet the mouse knew to be cautious, to know that sometimes, things were truly too good to be true……

Snap out of it.

Jesus fucking Christ- they chose to love you- to give you another chance after that pathetic performance yesterday- and there you go being all fucking suspicious. You really are a fuck up, aren’t you?

‘So- breakfast?’

Tommy almost choked on his spit when he laid eyes on….well whatever Techno had made for breakfast.

‘I’m sorry what the fuck it that-?’ Not even attempting to hide the mirth in his voice as he took in what appeared to be…an entire potato? Which had its daylights scorched out of it next to a dollop of mayonnaise….no- yoghurt.

‘Jacket potatoes with some condiment I found in the fridge.’

‘Jesus you really are a uni student…. holy-,’ at least Techno had the sense to look bashful.

‘Well, what would you make? I’m sure your version of breakfast would be milkless cereal.’

First off, milkless is good. He thinks, and second, on days when he could bring himself to eat in his own home when the shattering silence wasn’t eating him up from the inside out, Tommy would often clear what little space he took up on the kitchen bench and make himself a traditional breakfast that usually consisted of an omelette and some orange juice if he was feeling classy.

‘I’ll make us some pancakes- unless you want something else? I can do French toast and make a fucking good omelette.’

Tommy drew in the kitchen, making note that he needed to make a grocery run within the next couple of days or they would be completely out of food. Bouncing around the kitchen, Tommy grabbed pots and pans, his eyes downcast as they did when he was “in the zone”.

What felt like moments later, Wilbur and Techno’s plates were stacked high with perfectly golden-brown pancakes with fluffy white clouds puffing through the rim.

Wilbur's eyes blew wide as he recognised those pancakes, something he hadn’t seen let alone eaten in well over a decade now.

‘Are- are those mums’ pancakes?’ Tommy stiffens, stupidly thinking his brothers wouldn’t recognise their favourite childhood breakfast.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

He nods. ‘How’d you make them- she never gave anyone her “secret recipe”.’

‘Found it in the attic in her old cookbook when I was doing some spring cleaning.’

Tommy expected his brothers to yell at him, to start berating him for crossing an unspoken boundary, for tarnishing something dear to their hearts with himself, but instead, Wilbur bound over and wrapped Tommy in a tight hug, warmth flooding through to his core as he melted into the touch.

‘Thank you.’ He whispered, a happy tear rolling down his cheek, ‘thank you for bringing her back.’

Tommy huffed out a laugh, ‘They’re just pancakes-,’ but even he knew that was a lie. They weren’t just pancakes, they were her, immortalised in their fondest memories of her, making her tangible for the first time since her passing.

When Tommy felt another presence join their hug, he yelped in surprise.

‘Truly, Tommy. She would have loved for you to keep making these.’

Once they broke apart, Tommy once again yearned for the warmth he got with human contact, but he moved back into the kitchen serving up his own plate.

‘Toms- you need more than that-.’ Wilbur chided, looking at the singular pancake on Tommy’s plate, ‘c’mon- you’ve made plenty…’ The blonds shoulder rode up as he tried to make himself smaller,

‘I’m not hungry.’

‘Just one more?’ He pleased, fluttering his long lashes in a way that made Tommy’s nose crinkle up, ‘oh c’mon I’m not that ugly.’

‘Please, have you looked in the mirror lately?’ Wilbur clutched a hand to his heart, his face scrunched up in mock pain,

‘Oh, you wound me, child.’

‘Oh, fuck off-.’

‘The horror we have witnessed here today.’ Techno huffed as he ate his pancakes, his eyes dancing between his two brothers, an easy smile resting upon his lips.

‘You need to touch grass more often- you’re like a vampire-,’ Techno laughed as he ruffled Tommy’s hair, ‘and you look like the lightest breeze could just knock you over.’ The youngest grumbled as he retreated further into his hoodie.

‘It’s not my fault it's fucking freezing-.’

‘It’s literally 26 degrees.’

‘Doesn’t feel like it.’ Tommy grumbled, clearing his throat, ‘so, want to tell me why you’ve dragged me out of the house at…’ he checked his watch, ’10 in the morning? Cause its far too early for anything other than coffee.’

‘You drink coffee?’

‘Tech I’m 16- do you know a single 16-year-old who doesn’t drink coffee?’

‘Anyways,’ Wilbur cut in, ‘I was thinking we could go to the park, get some ice cream, I dunno- just hang out?’

‘At 10 o clock in the morning?’

‘That’s beside the point. We were well overdue for a trip out of the house anyways.’ Techno hums in agreement, the fresh air blowing his long hair like whisps of fairy floss in the wind.

‘Hey Techno?’ His older brother looked down,

‘Yeah?’

‘Why’d you dye your hair pink anyway?’ Wilbur snorted, elbowing Techno as if he was urging him to tell some tale only the two knew. ‘The last time I saw you I’m pretty sure you have short, brown hair.’

‘I needed a change.’

‘Lies.’ Wilbur coughed into his arm, a shit-eating grin on his face. ‘He lost a bet- our first year at uni.’ Tommy perked up, a childish glow returning to his features and when Techno met his eyes, he just couldn’t resist a good story.

‘Yeah, the first party we ever went to,’

‘And before Tommy thinks it was some cool frat party you see in movies- it was with Techno’s mates from the book club.’

‘Irrelevant.’ He huffed, tugging at a strand of his hair, ‘a friend of mine, Hannah, a total party animal-,’

‘President of the Horticultural Society-.’

‘Bet me that I couldn’t down a cup of straight cordial in under 30 seconds.’

‘And Techno being Techno just couldn't let his pride win and lost.’

‘So, the next day, she dyed my hair pink, and I dunno, I liked it. Kept it ever since.’

‘Well, I like it.’ Tommy giggled, swaying into Techno.

Even though he had shot up at least a foot and a half, he was still shorter than the twins, short enough in fact to be able lean his head on Techno’s shoulder, closing his eyes, soaking in the moment.

He was here, his brothers were here, he was feeling the fresh air on his face and walking outside with a bounce in his step he hadn’t had in what felt like years, 6 to be in fact.

‘You good, Theseus?’ Techno murmured, head coming down to meet his.

‘Mhm. I’m fine, good.’

‘You sure? You seem to be on the down low for energy.’

‘Yeah, I’m sure. It happens sometimes.’

Techno flashed a look over Tommy’s head, worry embedded deep within his almost red eyes, a worry Wilbur reciprocated.

They had known a girl, Andrea, back in their second year. She had the same bounce, the same laughter that could light up a room, the same energy that those around would match, she had brought the same glow into everyone’s lives as Tommy did.

But just as Tommy fought demons in his head, her mind was darker than Tartarus itself, evil vines of hurt wrapped around every good memory, a voice in the back of her mind whispering every silver lining she desperately grasped onto.

Wilbur and Techno both watched her slip further and further into the cold until their attempts at guiding her away from the bottle, away from the pills, away from the razor became futile.

The night she teased the shackles that bound Techno and Wilbur to the living world as she flew to somewhere her mind could rest-? That, to Wilbur and Techno, was the 2^nd worst day of their life, until yesterday.

Until the day looked at their younger brother, the one they were meant to protect, and saw a replica of Andrea, a girl who could no longer take it.

The panic attacks, the scars, the dragging bags under her eyes, the sudden loss of energy- it mirrored Andrea more than the twins could ever admit.

‘You sure you’re sure?’

‘Yeah. I’m fine. Back off, would ya? Haven’t gotten too much sleep the last couple days- so what?’ Techno put his hands up in surrender but quickly wrapped his arm back around his brother, Tommy whinnying at the touch, sniffing.

‘Can we go for a hot chocolate instead? It’s too cold for ice cream.’

‘Course, whatever you want.’ Wilbur confirmed, flashing his signature smile.

Tommy closed his eyes as he wrapped his fingers around the warm takeaway cup, soaking in all the warmth it had to offer. Silently begging it to wash away the ache embedded deep in his bones. Shivers racked up and down his spinal cord, an inescapable itch taking his limbs hostage.

‘Jesus fucking Christ is freezing, should’ve brought something more than just a hoodie.’ Tommy shivered, latching onto Wilbur’s side in search of anything that could cease the frostbitten feeling in his body.

Something between a whine and a murmur sounded from the bottom of Wilbur’s throat as he tugged off his yellow sweater and offered it out to Tommy.

‘Have it. Seriously, I’m not cold at all.’ Slipping the thick yellow wool over his head gave Tommy some comfort. His entire body was being hugged, the heaviness of the sweater grounding him to reality.  

‘Y’know what, Tommy?’ Techno said as he stood up, ‘I think we should start heading home, what do you think?’ Tommy nodded furiously, wincing when he moved his head too fast, the world shifting beneath his feet.

‘Yeah, sounds good.’ Wilbur tried to ignore how much Tommy leaned into him on the short walk home, the warm late morning sun breathing down Wilbur’s neck, yet Tommy seemed to be shivering.

‘Are you sure you’re ok-?’ Wilbur asked as they walked in the front door, his head bowed down and when Tommy nuzzled his forehead into the brunette's cheek Wilbur couldn’t help but coo at his little brother.

Guiding the lanky teenager over to the couch Techno’s brows furrowed, it was…. frightening to see his little brother so weak looking, so tired, so much like Andrea.

‘Sit down, Tech and I’ll go get us some snacks and we can just chill on the couch today.’

Looking back, they shouldn’t have left him on his own, not when they both had the gut feeling that something was most defiantly not right with Tommy Watson.

They’d find out what was wrong when they heard his voice, croaky and broken from the living room.

‘W-Wilba-?’ His cheeks were flushed scarlet with a glassy look in his eyes.

‘Toms- I told you to stay on the couch-.’ His knobbly knees clattered against each other like a leaf on a dying winter tree.

‘Wil- I don’t feel too good.’ Was the last thing he said before his eyes rolled to the back of his head and his body crumpled to the ground.

Chapter Text

‘Fuck, fuck, fuck fuuuuck-,’ Wilbur mutters running a hand through his messy hair as he stared at Tommy’s limp body on the couch, his arm slack by his side. ‘Fuck- Tech, what do we do? Jesus fucking Christ he’s burning up.’

Loud clattering came from the kitchen as Techno scrambled to find the thermometer, static clawing in his ears as Tommy’s crumbling body replayed over and over in his head.

Something akin to panic screaming in his head. He had seen this before, he had lived this, and the memory burned into his temporal lobe. Fuck fuck fuck fuck he can’t do this again.

‘I can’t find the fucking thermometer!’ He shouted back, as he pulled on a cupboard handle so hard, he feared it might fall off, ‘fucks sake dad, when was the last time you sorted this place out.’

‘Wil-?’ A voice rasped. Tommy attempted to hoist himself up, blinking his glassy, bloodshot eyes up at Wilbur. ‘Whats-?’

‘Tommy, Tommy, Tommy- Sunshine, hey, hey you with me? Techno- he’s up-’

Before whispering apologies when Tommy’s face scrunched up in pain. It felt like someone was taking a hammer to be head, every movement sending quaking jolts through his head. His limbs felt like lead, pinning him to the couch. Persistent tears pricked his eyes even as he tried to blink them away, his energy slowly slipping from his desperate grasp.

‘Theseus-,’ A flurry of pink hair crashed into the living room, worry taking up every ounce of his being.

Techno prided himself on his ability to stay calm, to be the voice of reason, the perfect counterpart to Wilbur…. But no member of the Watson family joked around with illness, not after it riddled itself deep within their house, their family, taking what was most important to them.

‘Tech-?’

‘Hey kiddo- we need to check your temperature; do you know where the thermometer is?’ Tommy just stared up at him, the feeling of cotton stuffed in his ears making it harder to process what Techno was asking. ‘Hey Tommy, I need you to stay with me here.’

‘Themom-Themometer?’

‘Yeah, the thermometer.’            

‘M’room- don’t think I brought it since-,’ a cough cut him off, taking up his air, frenzied gasps following soon after, ‘since the last time this happened.’

‘The last time?’

‘Ye-yeah, it happens a lot.’ Tommy groans, curling in on himself, ‘got a shit immune system and a body that hates me.’

‘I’m sorry to hear that.’ Wilbur coos, stroking Tommy’s hair out of his face, ‘can you tell me what usually happens?’ His voice unfairly soft.

Tears pricked Tommy’s vision wanting nothing more than to reach out to Wilbur, to his older brother and beg him to hold him, but he knew that was too much to ask. They had just started to heal, they had just seen him at his most vulnerable and he knew that Wilbur was putting on a brave face, that he was trying to make up for lost time by acting as if everything was ok, but he knew that under the surface, a rage must have been simmering quietly, and this could be what made it boil over. It only took a small nudge for the clock to tick back a decade.

‘A headache.’

‘Tommy-,’ Wilbur chided, running his hand through the blond's hair, his hands were surprisingly cold, parallel to Tommy’s overheating skin, ‘what else?’

‘…A fever, if it’s really bad I sometimes throw up-.’

And the nightmares. Dreams that haunted him when he was healthy turned more violent, more vicious and vivid as his brain attacked the softest, most vulnerable part of him…. but Wilbur didn’t need to know that.

‘I dunno Wil, when I am sick I don’t really pay attention to what’s going on, more focused on y’know, getting better.’ Wilbur’s brows furrowed as Techno’s footsteps bounded up the stair.

Last night, he had been too worried about Tommy to properly take in the boys' room. It was comical how his room was spilt. If Techno was to take a meat cleaver down the middle of his room, it would look like it belonged to two different people.

On one side, clothes were strewn across his floor and crumpled papers decorated the corner around his bin, his bed was unmade and half falling off. A spitting image of Wilbur’s side of their room back in their uni apartment.

But to Techno’s surprise and pleasure, the other side of his room was meticulously organised with his large oak bookshelf placed in the corner with all his textbooks lined up by subject starting from English Language, Chemistry, Biology, Maths Methods, Psychology, and Business, all with cracked spins and worn pages.

On the shelf understood photographs memories solidified and tangible, encased in glass. One was the picture the family had taken on Tommy’s 5^th birthday, the gaps where his two front teeth should have been on full display as he beamed up at the camera.

Another was of Tommy, a couple of years older in it, maybe 11 or 12, his school tie clearly having been tugged down as he proudly held up his year 6 graduation certificate in one hand, the other thrown around another boy's shoulder, his green iris’s looking surprisingly familiar.

He seemed to be a common theme throughout the other photos, showing up in almost every single one, sometimes along with another boy with quite possibly the thickest, most unrueing brown hair he’d ever seen.

One of Tommy and the shorter brunette on a podium stood out to Techno as he picked it up and read the golden print on the frame. “RoboCup Nationals Open Rescue Champions”

Huh.

Dad hadn’t mentioned anything about Tommy competing in a national robotics competition the last time they had talked but that seemed to be a common occurrence in the Watson household now, his dad, who had been so attentive and present for all of Techno’s childhood seemed to be nothing but the person who paid the bills and put a roof over his head for Tommy and Techno didn’t know who his heart hurt for when he thought of that.

One last item caught Techno’s attention before he left to re-join his brother’s downstairs, it was a simple white box with some handwritten text on the top that Techno couldn’t read from this angle so out of plain curiosity he grabbed it from the top shelf for a closer inspection.

“To Tommy From Tubbo.” Was what the top text read in messy, barely legible writing. He knew he shouldn’t have been snooping through Tommy’s things, he knew that if someone had gone through his things at that age he would have flipped his shit but after a minute of internal debate, he lifted the lid, frowning at the writing on the underside of the lid.

“Dear Tommy, First off, Happy Birthday! You need to know how proud I am of you, for literally everything you have overcome this year. I know it’s been hard, it’s been hard for me to, watching to struggle from the sidelines not really being able to do anything but I will do anything to help you kick mental health's ass (the bad stuff not the good stuff). You know how you tell me how you wish that sometimes your dad gave enough of a shit to put you work on the fridge? And no matter how many times we offer you our fridge at home (and admit it you basically live with us at this point) I know its not the same. So as part of your birthday gift I present you “The things im proud of box” it’s literally exactly what it sounds like, you can put anything in here, anything your proud or happy with. So next year on your birthday we can go through all the incredible shit you do. Lots of love, and happy birthday again, Tubbo.”

That is….a surprisingly thoughtful gift. Techno thought as he sifted through the contents of the box, all with little sticky notes attached to them. Some of them were basic things, that still blew Techno away like grades he had received that Techno couldn’t even imagine himself receiving when he was Tommy’s age.

“Got a 97 on my chem test- holy fuck I thought I was going to fail”

“Got a recommendation for specialist maths wooooo but no thanks”

“Got a 100% in game dev- I mean it’s game dev but whatevs- it’s a 100, I’ll take it”

“Got my report card back today. Almost straight A’s- which is crazy considering what they were last semester.’

Then there were the sweeter, more personal moments that clearly meant the world to Tommy.

‘Runner up at robocup regionals!’

‘Today I saw a bird and remembered that it was mums favourite. I think she’d be happy I remembered.’

‘Invented the very best fizzy drink combo. Sprite x Fanta x the blue Prime- its actually good wtf”

Then, of course, there were the ones that left a dull ache in Techno’s chest as his inner macerations argued over whether to be proud of Tommy or scared for Tommy when he wrote…

‘3 weeks clean’

‘4 weeks clean’

‘Told Tubbo about my relapse, im meant to be proud ig- well according to him. He told me to put it in here.’

‘Didn’t count my calories.’

‘Got out of bed.’

‘Cleaned my room.’

‘Went for a walk.’

‘Ate breakfast.’

‘Didn’t have a panic attack.’

‘Threw away my razors.’

‘Talked to dad- he asked how I was, almost fucking bawled ngl.’

‘Went to counsellor.’

‘2 weeks clean.’

‘Disinfected cuts properly.’

‘d i d n t  w a n t  t o  d i e  t o d a y’

Fuck- Techno’s heart hurt. A persistent throb for Tommy ached in his bones as his eyes flickered over the notes, he too, was so incredibly proud of Tommy, he was, truly. But fuck- what if he had been there? Would he still have turned to cutting himself? Or would he have stayed the same, happy, no slowing breath of fresh air the world oh so desperately needed?

Oh, right the thermometer.

Berating himself for forgetting the reason he was in Tommy’s room in the first place, allowing himself to get side-tracked. 

‘Wil- seriously,’ A choked cough wracked through Tommy, ‘you don’t need to worry this much.’ Tommy whined as Wilbur brought a damp cloth to his burning forehead, forcing his body to not lean into the coolness, a stark contrast to the blinding heat beneath his skin. Wilbur shushed him as he brought a straw to his lips,

‘Drink. You’re sweating bullets and shits gonna hit the fan if you get too dehydrated.’

‘Fine.’ Sighing quietly as the crystal water cooled with the searing throat.

‘That wasn’t so hard now, was it?’

‘Fuck off-.’ He mumbled turning his body into the couch cushions, shuddering when he felt the icy metal tip of the thermometer slide under his shirt, ‘oh fuck no.’ He spat, taking it from the older twin and glared as he muttered, ‘I’ll do it myself.’

Not ready to just let his brothers see his middle, even if they already knew. To Techno’s credit, he backed off, letting Tommy hold the device under his arm.

To Wilbur, it felt like an eternity had passed before it beeped and Tommy held it out, frowning at the result.

‘38.9-? Fuck- Tommy…’ Wilbur hissed, wringing out another cloth, ‘how did you even get out of bed this morning?!’

‘I dunno- thought it was normal.’ I thought it was normal to hurt. 

To wake up with an unexplainable ache in his bones, to stand up and the world to wobble beneath his already weak-feeling knees, the heat surging through to his fingertips making the thrumming of his heart even more present.

‘Can I sleep now?’ He slurred, separating his words becoming increasingly harder as his tongue turned to lead.

‘Y-yeah, course Toms. Just have one more drink of water for me?’ Honey slipping into Wilbur’s words as he continued to card his hand through his little brother's hair, lifting the straw up to his chapped lips, before his eyelids fluttered shut, chasing sleep that his body desperately craved.

They always started good.

It was quiet in the Watson house, but not that bone-chilling quiet Tommy had come to fear, instead, the air was filled with a comforting reassurance. When he heard footsteps coming down the stairs, a gentle smile replacing his usual flinch.

‘Hey Toms,’ The brunette called, guitar slung over his shoulder, ‘wanna hear a song I’ve been working on?’

That should have been the first and only red flag Tommy needed for him to wake the fuck up, but instead, a childish glimmer shone through his ocean-blue eyes as he affirmed with nothing but excitement.  

Wilbur’s lips pressed into a thin smile, guitar in hand as he started plucking the strings expertly.

One, two, three and four

I think this time I'm dying

I'm not melodramatic

I'm just pragmatic beyond any

Reasoning for thinking I've got fucking rabies or something

I think this time I’m dyring

I think this time I’m dyring

Tommy laughed, leave it to Wilbur to think of some stupidly funny lyrics that kept you up at night.

I think I've lost my mind

Blurring the fact and the fiction

Whilst simultaneously fixing

Myself up with a girl named Panadol

Bite the tablet, elixir

Disintegrate, mouth's a mixer

I think I’ve lost my mind  

I think I’ve lost my mind

A true craftsman with his words, his tongue his only necessary weapon, but as Wilbur sang, it wasn’t his sword, but his brush. Painting a picture so vivid Tommy could see the deep red as his anger flooded out, rich blues for the lows, a bright yellow for the highs. With a story behind every word, every syllable, every sound.

If I could just break one more night

Maybe I could wake up and feel alright

My optimistically set alarm clock time

Serves only to mock me with flashing lights

His head cocked to the side, staring at Wilbur quizzically. Heart clenching as he knew the anger that came with feeling as if the universe only kept you around to hurt, as if that was his only purpose.

I think I've made my choice

I'm a deceased playing victim

Slip the fate slip the victory

I think I've made my choice

Sink secluded in hatred

Void the plans friends are making

I think I've found my voice

I'm a leech sucking blood bags

Taste defeat, it's a sandbag

Saline solution

Saline solution to all your

Saline solution to all your

Saline solution to all your

Problems

‘So, what’d you think?’ Wilbur enquired, bringing his fingers to rest on the strings.

Tommy, after a moment of hesitation, decided on the response, ‘It was….sad.’

‘Yeah?’ His brother asked, and just like that, all solace cleared from his cold, dollish gaze, unease pooling in Tommy’s stomach. ‘You made me that, Tommy. I wouldn’t be “sad” if it wasn’t for you. You,’ Wilbur hissed, rising to his full height if not only to make Tommy feel smaller. ‘Ruin every single thing you come in contact with. I- no, we were so happy before you were born. Everything was perfect, but then mum had you and now she’s gone. You killed her Tommy. You’re a murderer. Why don’t you just find the nearest cliff and jump off? You’d be doing the world a favour.’

Clipped voice, cold gaze, murderer.

He hates you.

Why were you ever even born?

You ruin everything.

He hates you.

You hate you.

Why don’t you find the nearest cliff and just jump off, you’d be doing the world a favour.

Everything would be better if you had just gotten it right the first time.

Tommy’s eyes shot open, heaving in gasps of air begging for his lungs to start working again as he felt bile rising in his throat.

His lurch back into reality must have shocked Wilbur because before Tommy could even register that he was no longer in his hellish dream state, he was staring into the attentive cold, hard gaze of his older brother.

Making eye contact was all Tommy’s mind needed to bring the all too real reality to the front of his mind as he lurched his body upright only for the sour taste of his half-digested breakfast to make a reappearance.

His blood ran cold, colder than the freezing water dripping from his hair, colder than the tears stinging his eyes. His heart stuttered in his chest, a wave of chilling horror crashing over him. Tommy was going to throw up, that had to be what the sinking, deep-rooted terror in his gut meant. That had to be why his chest suddenly felt hollow, searing hot and arctic cold all at once. He couldn't breathe. His throat burned and his chest screamed for air but he couldn't fucking breathe-

Wilbur immediately reached out an arm and all Tommy wanted to clutch onto Wilbur’s arm like he was the air in his lungs, the only reason his heart was still beaten. And he might as well be. Wilbur meant safety; he meant comfort. A place to go to when the world was too much, a warm embrace when everything felt too cold.

Why don’t you find the nearest cliff and just jump off, you’d be doing the world a favour.

‘Jesus Tommy-,’ Wilbur hushed as he rubbed circles that seemed to melt the tension out of his back, ‘hey, hey, breathe.’

Making large, exaggerated breaths in through his mouth, out through his nose, before turning his back and hollering to Techno to grab a bucket from the laundry, having it thrust under his chin right before he heaved again, cringing at the sound of chunks splattering against the plastic.

‘Fuck Tommy- you really can’t catch a break, can you?’ Techno murmured, frustration tinging his voice.

‘’m sorry…’ He whispered, already out of breath as he spat more bile.

‘That wasn’t a dig at you, Theseus.’ His voice rumbled, ‘I was just pointing out that your immune system hates you.’

‘Yeah-,’ before his shoulders rod up and more of his breakfast made an appearance. It was a putrid stench, his head in the bucket, but anything over letting his brothers see how his eyes started to water. It was so pathetically humiliating, shivers continuing to roll through his weakened body.

Tommy, to be completely honest, looked terrible, his skin was a sickly sheet of white yet retained a sheer of clamminess and the thick dark circles beneath his eyes told Wilbur that he hadn’t been getting much sleep.

His bony shoulders hiked up to disguise the slight tremor they held as he wrapped himself in a hug. When Tommy’s head arises from the bucket his eyes dart between Techno and Wilbur, deep mahogany and chestnut, his own brimming with tears.

Wilbur could practically see the cogs turning behind his perspiring forehead. Wilbur had dealt with many things during his 22 years on planet earth, some more common than others.

He had dealt with the death of his mother, and what sprouted from her cold tombstone. Screaming matches with his grieving father. He had dealt with his devilish little brother who just needed someone. He had dealt with uni and bad grades, starting a band, and writer's block, but he had never dealt with being alone.

From the moment he had fought himself out of his mother's womb, in all his newborn glory he had had Technoblade.

Peaceful but not harmless, Techno had always been his sword and shield, his unnaturally sharp canine scaring away mindless tormentors who claimed the swings as their property. Never had he had to study alone, nor had he ever had to sleep alone, for you never saw a lone star.

And when the day got too much, Techno would always be there to ease his worries with endless tales of Greek myths and legends. On the nights when homesickness enveloped him, all he had to do was look to his side and realise that home wasn’t a place, but people, and to Wilbur, Techno was home.

Tommy had never had that.

‘Fucking hell dad! Who do you think you are?! You leave early, work all day, you come back late- we hardly ever see you and yet you still call yourself our father.’

‘Wil-,’ Exhaustion haunting Phil’s features, straggly blond hair pulled up in a ponytail, ‘come on mate that’s not fair-.’

‘Then why do you do it?! You have the power to not go to work that often- or go back to working from home but instead you run away from all your problems leaving Tech and I to look after Tommy instead of enjoying our last couple of years as kids!’ He screams, anger locking away any tears that threatened to fall- he wouldn’t cry, not here. Back in the safety of his shared bedroom, he would, but not here.

‘Don’t you that to me, Wil… I don’t think you understand the scope of everything that’s going on.’

‘Yeah, dad, I do-! I’m not a kid anymore. It’s been two years- she’s been gone two years… when are you going to accept the new normal?’

‘Take that back, Wilbur.’ Phil hissed, ‘take that back right now. Your mother was my entire world- I don’t know how to do it without her-.’

‘She was ours as well.’

Their mother with her midnight black hair and her purple nightgown that bowed at her feet. Their mother with nothing but kindness in her eyes until the very end. Their mother who looked beyond every bad trait to see the good within. Their mother, who was gone.

‘But she’d hate this version of you, just as much as I do.’

His dad went to make a retort but only a strangled sob left his body as he fell to the floor in a heap, ugly gurgles from the back of his throat making Wilbur cringe before grabbing Techno’s hand a retreating upstairs.

Wilbur was curled up on Techno’s bed, ruffling up the covers in the most unorderly way but Techno couldn’t care less as he seated himself at the end of his bed.

‘So, are you gonna tell me what that was about?" Techno asked, now lying with his head on his brother’s chest. Wilbur’s fingers stilled in the middle of the patterns he’d been tracing across Techno’s back.

‘No,’ Wilbur murmured into scruffy brown hair. He was not in the mood for an interrogation. He felt so fragile that only Techno’s weight on his chest and the soft chuff of his breath and the familiar smell of their room was threatening to break him. ‘I hate it here. I hate dad. I hate that she’s not here-.’

‘Yeah, I know, I know.’

‘What if we just….,’ he trailed off as if he was about to whisper something utterly forbidden.

‘What if we just what, Wil?’ Wilbur shook his head, curling even tighter so he was headbutting Techno’s torso. ‘What was that?’

‘Left.’ He croaked, slightly louder, ‘what if we just left?’

Embarrassment weaved beneath his skin as he proposed just running away from all their his problems. Techno was happy here, he could still be civil with their father, he had all his friends, he had fencing, he had a normal life and Wilbur had just suggested leaving that all behind for him.

The silence that followed was fucking terrifying, as his mind tumbled down the rabbit hole.

‘Sounds like a plan.’

‘Yeah, I know it was a stupid thing to- wait I'm sorry what?’

Techno’s immediate agreement was so nonchalant, as mellow as if he was agreeing on having eggs for breakfast Wilbur doesn’t know if he wants to hug him or punch him. ‘Y-You’re not going to fight me on this?’

‘Why would I? You’re unhappy here, that makes me unhappy, and besides, there’s nothing keeping me here anymore.’

His twin's wide, unbelieving eyes made Techno’s heart clench, his twin and his broken heart.

A sob crawls up Tommy’s throat and swallows it back into the cage of his lungs, tugging at the roots of his hair so hard that it makes him whimper. He’s not going to cry – he refuses to let himself break like that again.

He’s passed this, craving the touch of his family so badly it haunts his bones for days, past caring about what his family does, past the guilt and a dozen of other useless feelings that have been holding him back all those years– but then why does it hurt so much, not being held.

Gentle, too gentle hands guided his shaky hands away from his locks, drawing small circles over his knuckles with the pad or their thumb.

‘Tommy don’t do that…. You’re working yourself up even more… I need you to breathe, can you do that for me, Sunshine?’

‘I can’t,’ he whispered back, ‘I can’t do it…. it’s not working.’

‘It will. It will, I promise. You just have to try for me-,’ Wilbur’s yellow sweater heaving up and down with each exaggerated breath he took, the gentle whoosh of air leaving his lungs slowly bringing Tommy back down to earth. An ill-sounding gurgle clogged in his throat as he swallowed down more vomit, face paling as he puffed his cheeks out.

‘You’ll feel better if you let it all out, Theseus.’

The rapid shaking of his head made the floor tilt on its axis as he leaned back, his grip on Wilbur evolving from a gentle squeeze to nothing short of bruising.

‘Not….here.’

‘Do you think you can walk or do you want me to carry you?’ Techno asked, his features softening when Tommy hesitantly lifted his arms out, face flushed and bottom lip quivering.

Tommy was basically all skin and bones, Techno noticed as soon as he lifted him, for someone of his height, he should way at least an extra 15kg. He shivered when blond hair lightly brushed against his slightly stubbly neck.

Tommy was vaguely aware, although the cotton in his ears only seemed to clear when his overheating skin made contact with the blissfully cool tiles of the toilet. Melting into Techno’s arm as he took a seat next to Tommy.

‘Now the next time you feel sick, I don’t want you to hold it in, you’ll feel better, I promise.’

A cocktail of nausea swirling too close to the surface, Techno’s gentle words and Wilbur’s

nimble fingers applying pressure right above his belly button made his quaking stomach contract, squeezing all the remaining contents up through his oesophagus, spewing from his desert-dry lips, nonsensical words falling out along with chunks of pancakes.

‘Hey, Theseus…’ Techno cooed, ‘I need you to stop talking, just let your body do its thing.’

‘N-No-! Stop- I can’t do it, mum-!’  Wilbur and Techno froze as they realised that Tommy wasn’t all there, instead his mind was conjuring the one thing they longed for the most. ‘I just… don’t…. I just don’t want Wilby and Tech to leave me again,’

‘What?’ Whispered Wilbur, clutching Techno’s hand.

‘They’re going to think I'm a burden-,’ their delirious brother wailed, ‘someday they’re going to leave me again and this time… it’ll only be my fault. It won’t be a mi-mixture of you not being here… and Wilby and Dad fighting…. Or whatever else was going on that my stupid 10-year-old mind couldn’t comprehend… It’ll be me, their self-harming, suicidal freak of a brother who’ll scare them away this time… They’re going to leave me. And it’ll all be my fault. And I deserve it.’

Wilbur’s world fell silent in a way it only had a handful of times before. The feeling of his heart dropping, the world slowing so much that he felt as if he could physically reach within time and gasp it.

‘No- Sunshine… Never.’ He whispered, tears flowing down, rewetting his tacky cheeks, ‘we were awful to you. We should have stayed, we should have. But we didn’t. And I’ll tell you every until you believe me.’

‘Wilbur…’ Techno murmured as Tommy heaved again, the twins no longer being able to force liquid down his throat at the heart he was throwing it up, ‘if he keeps this up he’s going to get seriously dehydrated. I think we’ll need to take him to the hospital.’

That seemed to return a sliver of awareness into Tommy’s eyes as he frantically shook his head.

‘No hospital.’

‘Tommy-,’

‘No. Hospital.’

‘We need to get you help, Tommy. I don’t think your body can handle much more of this.’

‘If you take me to the hospital. I will never forgive you.’ He spoke with a sharp clarity that Wilbur didn’t understand how he regained, but the deathly glint in his eyes told it all.

‘Why?’ Techno pressed, desperate for a sign of….. something.  ‘You can’t just expect us to do nothing.’

‘Be-because last time-,’ he gagged again, throwing his head in the toilet, grimacing as straight bile came up. ‘Just… just get Dream. He-he’ll know what to do.’ He gasped, clearly exhausted as he lowered himself onto the cold bathroom tiles, his eyelids fluttering shut.

Chapter Text

‘Just… just get Dream. He-he’ll know what to do.’ Tommy’s breathy pants ceased slightly as he lowered himself onto the tiles, his arms acting as a makeshift pillow as his eyes fluttered shut.  

Why would we get Dream of all people?  Wilbur’s mind snarled before flashing to the conversation they had had with him the afternoon prior.

‘Do you want me to go over or do you?’ Techno mumbled, his eyes flicking between his twins and Tommy’s sleeping form.

‘I’ll go. Besides, we have some unfinished business.’

‘You know how ominous it sounds when you say it like that, right? FYI, he’d beat you to a pulp.’

‘I’m going to talk- not fight him, Tech.’

‘Yeah, yeah, sure.’

‘I’m no- whatever, I’ll be back soon.’

The afternoon shone down the lane like an angles' path, a horrible representation of what Wilbur was feeling. Making his way down to is 2312 L’Manburg Rd, he took in the modest cobblestone house with deep oak-planted roofs with a deep red well-worn in veranda.

‘I cannot believe I am about to do this-.’

Rolling his neck as he made his way up to the ivy-green door, a silver-plated copperplate sign that read “Snowchester” hammered in by hand. Pressing the doorbell once, Wilbur waited. It didn’t take long before he heard the echo of pattering footsteps down the hallway, the door creaking open as a short brunette, Tubbo, Wilbur assumed, ‘s head popped out.

‘Wha- Wilbur?’ He gaped, eyes slitting as he glared up, ‘what are you doing here?’

‘I need- Tommy- is your brother home?’ Craning his neck as he tried to peer down the fall.

‘Dream? Why do you need to know where Dream is?’

‘I just do ok? Now can you tell me if he is or not?’ He snapped, tone once again clipped as he tried to keep the snarl off his lip. He didn’t have time for this bullshit, not when Tommy was at home still throwing his guts up.

‘Tell me why. Because last time I checked, I don’t have to tell you shit. You treated me and my brother like the dirt under your shoe, so unless you have a good reason to be here…. I suggest you leave.’ As the door creaked shut, Wilbur threw a desperate foot in, pleading with his eyes.

‘Please- it’s about Tommy.’ The shorter brunette's eyes snapped up to meet Wilbur’s shaky gaze. As if a switch had been flicked in the boys’ head, all malicious left his stare as it immediately turned into unfiltered worry.

‘What happened?’

‘I told you, I need Dre-,’

‘No, you tell me what happened. I’m his best friend I have a right to know.’ He hissed, acrimony seeping back into his words. ‘Or I’ll go over there myself.’

‘Jesus fucking Christ…. Kids these days,’ Wilbur muttered to himself, ‘He’s sick. Spent the last hour-ish throwing his guts up.’

‘I’ll go get him, we’ll be over in 5.’

‘What?’

‘Dream and I. Now go. You had enough sense to come here, or Tommy sent you, I’m guessing the latter. Which means he must have forgiven you to an extent, and if Tommy forgives you…. then so do I…. to an extent.’

Before slamming the door shut and Wilbur heard the boy hollering for his other. He’s…. interesting. Gravel crunching under his boot as he turned back to the frisk breeze, clouds having blotted over the sunshine that had graced the street only moments before.

‘Dream!’ Tubbo shouted, ‘Get your ass downstairs, we’re going to Tommy’s.’ Footsteps echoed as his eyes creased in worry. It must have been bad if Wilbur got over his pride and come to them of all people for help.

‘What's going on?’ Dream called back as he made his way into the kitchen, concern etched onto his features as he watched his brother shuffle around in search of the “Tommy care basket”. A result of a joke made by Tubbo made a few years prior but after multiple incidents in which Tommy had needed a help they couldn’t supply, Dream created the “Tommy care basket ™” which housed anything from bandages to instant ice packs, colouring books, pain killers, cough drops, alkaline tablets, tea of every kind, headphones, rubber bands, and a book containing 100 inspirational quotes, which the two boys had made it their mission to vandalise and shit on as many as possible.

‘Hurt, sick or needs someone?’

Much like Tubbo, in high-stress situations, Dream seemed to turn into a clinical robot, only collecting enough information to figure out the best course of action before allowing his limbic system to crash back into reality.  

‘Sick.’ Ignoring how his brothers' brows dropped, ‘Now let's go.’

‘Tubbo-,’ he whined, ‘you know what I’m going to have to say, don’t you?’

‘…..no. Absolutely not, he needs me. Besides, we don’t even know if it’s contagious….c’mon Dream…’

‘You know what my answer’s going to be, don’t fight me on this one, please.’

‘But-,’              

‘No but’s.’

‘Ple-.’

‘No. You’re staying home… you could make him some soup or something? Then you could drop it at the door, how’s that sound?’

‘Shit.’

‘But?’

‘But it’s better than nothing…. Text me when you find out how he is?’

‘Of course.’

 Even though Dream was slight shorter than Wilbur, he caught up to his ex-“rival” relatively fast, grabbing his shoulder as he called,

‘Hey Wilbur.’ Chuckling as the man jumped out of his skin, whipping around to glare at the blond.

‘Jesus fucking Christ, don’t sneak up on me like that.’ Before remembering who he was talking to and his signature glare welded over his eyes. ‘Dream.’

‘Wilbur.’ Sneering at the condensing tone, Wilbur was quick to reply.

‘I wouldn’t be asking for your help unless it was my last resort…. But Tommy seems to trust that you’ll know what to do…. And I love him so I suppose I’ve gotta get over my….’ He sighs. ‘Pride.’

Dream laughs again, bumping him with his shoulder.

‘Nope, we’re not there yet. I’m not like that brute Sapnap.’ He grumbled, remembering how back in their high school days, Sapnap was most often seen with his tie knotted around his forehead like some makeshift bandana, sleeves rolled as he arm wrestled some poor 9^th grader.  ‘So….undignified.’

‘You are such a pompous brit.’ Wilbur let out an offended gasp,

‘I am not! You’re such a fucking….. Florida man.’

‘I see where Tommy gets his colourful language from.’ Smile dawning his pearly whites, wishing he had the opportunity to talk to Wilbur like this back in school.

‘Actually, your brother, he had a British accent, if my memory serves me correctly. But you’ve got your fucking American one.’

‘iF mY mEmoRY sErVeS mE cOrRecTLy,’ Dream mocked, ‘but yeah, Tubbo’s got a British accent, I’ve got an American one. Can’t seem to shake.’

‘Yeah, why is that?’

‘I mean both my parents are American, so I got my accent from them just talking to me I guess.’

‘So how come Tubbo doesn’t have one?’

‘….He didn’t talk to our parents as much as I guess, neither of them were around as much for him as they were for me. I’m sure you heard the stories.’ Everyone at their highschool knew some variation of the Underscore family story, small town, rumours spread like wildfire.

Mum was killed in a car accident, Dad couldn’t take it and bolted.

Mum killed herself, Dad was a deadbeat to begin with.

Dad was abusive to the point that he drove Mum to insanity, she was still locked up in some mental asylum to this day.

But never understood what truly happened.

He had forgotten to tell his parents he was having a half day, but luckily his bus dropped right around the corner from his house and he always carried his spare key. He walked up to the front door, he frowned when he saw an unfamiliar car in their driveway, alongside his mothers, though he quickly dismissed any questions as he gripped his little diorama in his hands. He had been so happy with the end product that he had basically been vibrating off the walls to show his Mum when she came back from work, now he just got to show it earlier, even though oday was a Wednesday, Mum always works on Wednesdays… Maybe she had a friend over, which is why she didn’t go to work today.

He made sure to be quiet so as not to wake Tubbo when he slipped into the house, freezing as he heard banging coming from his parent's room. The first thing his sweet little, stupidly naïve 8-year-old brain thought was that his Mum was in danger, that someone was in her room hurting her.

Tiptoeing up to her door, he lent his ear against her door, paling as he heard her scream. Two deep breaths, that’s what he allowed himself before he swung open the door and with one fatal shove, his world came crashing down.

Years later, he swore the world went silent as his mother’s head snapped from her halo of pillows to stare at her oldest, the man atop her who had just been kissing her doing the same.

‘Mum?’

‘D-Dream, sweetie…. You’re home early!’

‘Mary- fuck you said no one would be home! Other than the little brat who sleeps through anything.’

‘Don’t worry.’ She chided, pushing the man atop her to the side, gathering the tangled sheets to cover her bare chest. ‘He won’t tell. Dream, you’re not gonna tell Daddy what you saw mummy doing right?’ Her words coated with its usual kindness, only slightly different,

‘W-What?’ Bottom lip trembling. ‘What are you doing?’

‘Nothing. How about this? You don’t tell daddy and I’ll by you that sword that you’ve wanted for a while.’ She proposed before her features darkened, ‘but if you do….I’ll leave. I’ll leave you and dad and Toby all by yourselves… you don’t want that do you?’

‘Mary- this was a bad id-.’

‘Michael.’ Voice curt as she cut him off, ‘if you don’t stop talking right now, it’s your wife I’m telling.’

His stomach felt like a swamp, unable to detect the source of that nasty awful hue, just the ability to identify its existence. This wasn’t his mum…. this was some twisted unrecognisable version of her.

Dream shook his head before slamming the door shut, running upstairs to Tubbo’s room, tears slowly dripping as he realised this was the end of him, all his dignity, his happiness. Is stupid diorama a crumpled mess on the floor.

He was a kid, but he wasn't dumb- but he still couldn’t come to terms with losing his childhood so young. Everything after that was fuzzy. He didn’t remember hearing the door click shut and the rev of an engine as Michaels pulled out of the driveway, nor did he hear his dad's heavy boots trekking up the stairs, calling his family’s names.

He didn’t know that it was his muffled sniffles that lured his dad away from his wife and towards his son. He didn’t recall how he launched himself into his dads' arms, breathing in his familiar cologne.

‘Hey, Bud, what’s wrong?’ Shivering when his neckbeard prickled his skin. ‘Were some kids at school being dickheads to you?’ A little shake. ‘Do you think you can tell me what’s wrong then?’

‘I can’t.’ He strained, tears staining his father's top as wetness clung to his eyelashes. ‘I promised….’

‘Promised who?’ Swiping at the tears that fell. ‘You can tell me bud…I won’t be mad.’

‘You will be…’ Nuzzling further into his dads sweater, he ran from a truth he knew he wouldn’t be able to ignore for long. ‘I’m sorry.’ Schlatt’s eyes hardened as he watched tears fall from his sons eyes.

Perhaps it was a feeling only parents were well versed in, seeing their child cry and feeling physical pain. A hurt so acute he would stop at nothing to make the tears dry.

He wrapped the small boy up in his arms, squeezing as if he was trying to scare away all his fears, fears that seemed to dance in front of him, teasing as he tried to desperately strangle the thing that left his son in agony.  

‘You know what? Why don’t you and I go get some ice cream and play at the park for a bit? Ice cream makes everything better, right?’ In all honesty, Dream didn’t think ice cream was going to fix anything, but he was willing to bathe in lava if it meant getting out of the house for the afternoon.

The trees were basking in a golden hue when the duo got to the park. A warm summer breeze filtered through the leaves, soaking the icecream shop in warmth. Green apple for him, and rum and raisin for his dad. The swings creaked as the two rocked gently, letting a calm tranquil overcome the air.

‘So, you wanna tell me what’s bothering you?’ Schlatt pleased, taking Dreams hands in his own. ‘What’s going on bud?’

‘…it’s mum.’

‘What about her? Did she take away your iPad or something?’ Something about the mirth in his dad's eye made him glower. This was so much more serious than some stupid punishment. 

‘She told me not to tell you…’ He whispered. ‘But I can tell you if you promise to not get mad.’

Schlatt should have known not to make promises he couldn’t keep.

The blood drained from his face, heart thundering as he called his wife every bad word he knew in his mind when Dream detailed what he had seen that afternoon. Ice cream on his tongue tasted like ash, feeling ill as he thought about his wife, the person he had got down on one knee for and promised to spend the rest of his life with, fucking another man while her newborn was in the room next to her.

‘O-ok, Dream.’ Trying his best to keep anger from seeping into his words. ‘We’re going to go home now. When we get home, I want you to pack a bag…. Some clothes, books, your iPad, your school stuff, and then I want you to pack some of Toby’s clothes as well.’ The question in his sons' eyes was comically painful as he tried to understand why he needed to do such a thing. ‘We’re going on an adventure.’

He didn’t like to think of what happened next. The screaming he heard from downstairs as he hurriedly packed his bag, the clashes of plates while his mother screeched strings of curses at her husband.

‘Dream, get down here.’ Schlatt bellowed, ‘we’re leaving.’ Tucking his still miraculously sleeping brother under his chin, he wobbled down the stairs, balancing the weight of his backpack and Tubbo.

The look of sheer hatred his mother gave him would forever haunt his nightmares. Demons in her eyes plunged into his soft heart, her sandpaper voice cutting him open when she uttered 5 words that would forever change his life.

‘This is your fault Dream.’ Throwing a picture frame at him, which thankfully missed him, but was enough to wake Tubbo who started sobbing hysterically. ‘When you are all alone with, and you look back and see how good you had it, you will forever regret this day.’ Her venomous heads hissed at his feet, snaking up as they strangled him.

‘Let's go Dream. We’re leaving.’ Still glaring at his mother. ‘You’ll be hearing from my lawyer shortly.’

‘No need, I never want to see this pathetic excuse for a son. If I knew you were going to be like this-,’ she gestured up and down his frame, ‘then I wish I never had my “dream baby”!’

And those were the last words he ever heard from his mother, and no amount of reassuring from anyone would ever heal his scar, and the venom she had left behind.

His mother had planted something dark inside his father, like a seed, and it would grow until the leaves were big enough to blot out the sun, soon after they had left, one drink a night became two, two became four, and four became not coming home from the bar until dawn.

And it was all his fault.

‘But the point is, it was just me and dad while Tubbo was growing up.’

‘Where’s the little twerp anyways? I thought he would come for sure.’ Wilbur asked, looking back at the road the two had just walked down.

‘He wanted to, trust me. But he’s got an autoimmune disease…. had one ever since he got pneumonia when he was little, and as much as he loves Tommy, he wouldn’t want Tubbo to risk it.’

Wilbur just nodded as they continued the short distance to the Watson residence.

‘Listen….’ Wilbur trailed off, awkwardly running a hand through his curly locks making his hair stick out in wayward directions. ‘I was wondering if you could talk Tommy into visiting the hospital cause he’s more likely to listen to you over Tech or I-.’ Abruptly stopping his ramble when he saw Dream's hardened gaze.

‘….Sorry Wilbur, but I can’t help you with that.’ Taking in Dreams’ body language, he could tell that the man left guilt for a reason unknown to Wilbur but he just couldn’t comprehend why on earth he would refuse to talk some sense into his little brother. Sensing Wilbur's inner turmoil he quietly added,

‘The last time he went to the hospital….it didn’t end well for him. It’s not my story to tell but as the person who picked up the pieces after that stay, I never want to put him in a position where he feels like that again.’

Wilbur mulled over the words in brain for a minute, piecing together a puzzle with so many pieces missing you couldn’t even begin to grasp the concept, but as he pictured Tommy, with his ocean blue eyes. Eyes that belonged to a crushed spirit, a shell of a boy he once knew, haunted by living ghosts, Wilbur listened. 

As they faced the Watsons read door, Dream made eye contact with Wilbur, a silent understanding being made. They weren’t so different after all, no matter what Wilbur did back in the day, he was 17 and mourning the loss of his mother.

But now, he was back and all he wanted needed Tommy to be ok, and that, won Dreams’ heart every time.  

Chapter Text

When Tommy comes to, he is immediately aware of the acute throbbing in his head, as if someone was taking a jackhammer and just going nuts with it. The second thing he notices is the three blobs that keep coming in and out of focus, leaving him confused in his sickened haze.

‘H-Hey Tommy-,’ A voice coos, he has no idea who was talking, just that their voice was so painfully sweet; tears sprung from his eyes.

‘Hey, kiddo.’ A new voice whispers, equally as gentle, carding a hand through his matted locks. ‘How are you feeling?’

‘Shit.’ He wheezes out, his brain finally clearing enough for him to realise it belonged to Techno. Cue his brain short-circuiting for a moment before the past week caught up to him. ‘R-really shit.’ His comment is followed up with a breathless laugh from Wilbur as he brought a straw up to his lips, urging him to drink.

‘How long have I been out?’ Pride shining through his delirium when his voice manages not to crack.

‘Couple hours? It’s almost 8, Dream went home maybe a half hour ago? You kept going in and out of consciousness and wanted to be here when you fully woke up but said something about not trusting Tubbo alone in the kitchen after an “incident”.’

A gawaf rushed through Tommy’s body before chest aching coughs followed, sitting up, motioning Wilbur to pass him the water again.

‘You gave us a proper scare, Theseus….’ Techno mumbled into his hair as he bent over the couch. ‘Don’t do it again, yeah?’ Tommy tiredly nodded, although he had been asleep for the better part of the afternoon, he felt as though all his energy had been sucked right out of him.

All he really wanted at that point in time was some water, maybe some crackers and to watch a movie with his brother….. the last thing he needed was the sound of the keys in the front door and the creaking of floorboards as Phil walked into the house.

Fury that had been jammed to the depths of Wilbur’s brain seemed to seep out and cloud his vision the second their dad walked into the room. Despite the bags that seemed to drag his face down and a shirt that resembled a paper that belonged at the bottom of the trash can, he didn’t show his father mercy as he glared the man down, before standing to his full height, towering over the elder.

‘Where the hell have you been?’ He bit out, nose scrunched, eyes pointed.

‘What do you mean, mate? I’ve been at work- I left a note on the counter…’

‘A note? You left a fucking note on the counter, did you? Great. You’ve been gone…’  Wilbur checked his phone, the dimly lit phone screen sure to make Techno cringe as he complained about his already appalling eyesight getting worse. ‘Since Thursday. It’s Saturday.’ He hissed.

Phil’s azure eyes flicked down in shame, opening his mouth before redundantly closing it again.

‘Well?’

‘Well what, mate? I’m not sure what you’re asking?’

And it was how fucking genuine he looked that made something itch inside Wilbur. How genuinely confused his dad seemed at realising he had done something to upset his son. Wilbur let out a frustrated grunt before storming out into the study, Phil in tow.

‘Wil- mate, calm down… I can’t read your mind y’know. Tell me what I’ve done wrong.’ He pleaded, desperation leaking so pathetically into his voice it made the taller cringe.

‘That. That’s the fucking problem. You don’t know what you’ve done… You’ve been gone 3 whole days and you don’t see a problem with that.’

‘I understand this isn’t exactly what you’d expect….coming back after so long, but Tommy’s old enough to look after himself.’ Images of Tommy’s bloodied arms, of him begging his body to breathe, of him collapsing after hiding his illness, of Tommy, in a manic state in the bathroom as he begged not to be left again.

‘No dad- he’s not.’

‘Wil, he’s 16.’

‘He’s only 16.’

And then it hits him, his dad has no idea. Not a clue- and Wilbur was overcome with an unnerving sense of….pity for the man. So blissfully oblivious to his son's suffering as if he lived within the eye of the hurricane.

Tears prick his already glassy eyes and he can’t help but whisper out a broken plea for his father to understand without the words leaving his mouth. Without him needing to explain what his poor little brother had faced alone for the majority of his life.

‘Dad- you needed to be here- Tommy needed you to be here…’ And Phil couldn’t help but feel as though Wilbur wasn’t just referring to the last few nights.

Phil would be the first to admit that after the passing of his wife, things had changed.

All of a sudden, everything was too big for them, without her larger-than-life presence to take up space. He and Wilbur started to fight argue more, and on nights after his son screamed until his beautifully melodic voice was raw, when all he wanted to do was wrap in a hug as whispered loving affirmations over and over-, he was a teenager…. And teenagers didn’t like loving affirmations.

And even though he and Wilbur never seemed to be able to get along, at least he knew he was there. He knew where Wilbur was as he snapped harsh words, he knew where Wilbur was through the angry guitar that screeched from his room after an argument, he knew where his son was.

Techno, on the other hand, if he wasn’t with Wilbur, was at some library, forever improving himself. Techno had definitely inherited that from him, his constant need to be working on something bigger.

Well- his drive had been eased slightly when the twins were born. It had seemed so easy for Kristin, whilst he spent the nine months worrying about every little thing, Kristin seemed to have a constant calm aura around her- and even after the boys were born and spent hours screaming into the night, dark circles never stained her porcelain face.

Tommy on the other hand. It almost felt like one day he woke up- and Tommy was already a teenager. Was all of a sudden too busy brooding in his room to spend time with his dad. All of a sudden had his own friends for their Friday night movies- or walks in the park, Phil had hurt- but Tommy was a teenager.

And teenagers brood and lock themselves up in their rooms and have their own friends- it was normal.

But when Phil peered at his son- crumpled on the couch- wrapped up in blankets and limbs- he….didn’t seem normal. A shell of a person he once knew.

‘Hey dad?’ Tommy whispered, a shaky hand coming out as he needed to check his father was actually here and not some sickness induced hallucination.

‘Hey mate.’ That was all it took for the boy to completely break. His walls crumbled the rest of the way and he broke down in loud, heart wrenching sobs.

Wilbur let out a long breath, then went to Tommy and sat on the floor slightly to the side of him instead of directly in front. Then he pulled his brother to him, so that the blond was leaning on him with his head on his shoulder, his arms around the other man in a tight embrace. Tommy turned his head into Wilbur’s neck, completely letting go and losing it.

‘Dad? D-dad-, w-what are you d-doing here?’

‘I heard you weren’t feeling too good, mate.’ Tommy’s bottom lip trembled, tears turning his eyes to glass. ‘Aww I’m sorry mate- let’s get you up to bed, how’s that sound?’

The silk of his emerald green tie flopped onto Tommy’s chest as Phil plucked him up from where he had become fused to the couch. The boy was light- so light.

Neither Wilbur nor Techno had ever been beefy, both with slender frames, they moved with a graceful agility that belied their apparent fragility.…. compared to them, Tommy was a skeleton.

Placing down Tommy in his bed, Phil’s spirits couldn’t help but be dimmed even further as he took in the state of his youngest’s room.

The room is a small, plain space with no discernible character or charm. The walls, ceiling, and floors are all still painted a sterile white, unlike the warm yellow that coated Wilbur’s side of his room, or the custom shelves he had made for all Techno’s books.

A layer of dust had settled on the windowsill, signifying it hadn’t been opened in quite some time. Tommy seemed to curl into to Phil’s touch, like a sunflower, turning towards the sun. That seemed to be a fitting description of Tommy.

A sunflower, with its golden petals stretching towards the sun, is a beaming reminder of nature's luminous beauty.

‘He asleep?’ Techno asked, not yet having moved from the armchair. ‘Heh- he’s slept a good 7 hours already this afternoon.’

‘His body’s exhausted, I’m surprised he didn’t sleep longer.’ Wilbur clipped, reminding Phil that this was most definitely not going to be a quiet evening.

‘Boys.’

‘Dad.’ Twins. In reality, only a few seconds of silence passed, but unspoken words passed from one twin to another made it feel like an eternity had gone by.

‘Dad, I think we need to talk.’ Phil nodded, pulling his hair out of its ponytail.

‘I’m assuming you know what we’re going to talk about.’ Phil’s eyes fell shut, nodding. Something inside him, call it a parental instinct- knew something wasn’t right, not with Tommy, or the twins, and something within him…..was broken just the same.

‘How could you dad.’ The brunette hissed, his voice shattering Phil into a million pieces. He hadn’t heard such hurt….since the twins had left- a tiny Tommy staining his pillow with tears.

‘You let them leave- why did you let them leave?!’ He had wailed, wailed for his brothers to come back, wailed for his brother to fix what was broken, and wailed to understand why he all of a sudden felt so empty inside.

Phil had completely forgotten about that, how could he have forgotten about that.

The weight of guilt and shame hit Phil like a ton of bricks, as he realized that he had completely forgotten about what had caused Tommy's tears. How could he have been so absent-minded, so neglectful of his son's emotional well-being? He knew that he had let Tommy down, and that his neglect had caused the boy's pain to linger and fester, rather than healing over time.

‘I know…..we haven’t been here for him either….but in the short amount of time we’ve been back home- he’s different dad…not teenager different.’ Techno starts, ‘No, this is something else….and for the sake of Tommy’s privacy, I don’t think it’d be best if we said anything….but he needs help dad- fuck he needs help and none of us were around to give it to him.

‘Tech- no… I don’t know what’s happened….but don’t blame yourself.’

Wilbur's frustration boiled over, his temper flaring as he snapped at whoever he was speaking to. He had always been known for his hot-headedness, but this time it felt different. There was a deep-rooted anger in his tone, a frustration that had been building up for far too long.

"That's the problem," he repeated, his voice growing louder. "Why can't you see that that's the problem?"

‘I know-.’

‘No I don’t think you do!’

‘Wil-.’

‘He’s struggling so much- and you can’t just be all “I was busy” like where the fuck were you dad-?!’

‘Wil-.’

‘He was-.’

‘Wilbur!’ Techno's sharp tone cut through the air like a knife, his eyes flashing with a warning that Wilbur couldn't ignore. He knew that he had pushed too far, that his anger had gotten the better of him.

‘Sorry,’ he muttered, still glowering at their father. ‘But he-.’

‘No. You know what, it’s not fair on Tommy for us to be having this conversation without him, we promised to be there for him, and I intent to keep that promise. I suggest we all go to bed, and we can continue this conversation in the morning. Sound good?’

The sound of shoes trudging up the carpet filled the now silent house, the twins both lost in a train of thought.

The weight of disappointment and failure weighed heavily on Phil's shoulders, a burden that seemed impossible to shake. He longed for the warmth of the sun on his face, a reminder that there was still light in the world, even when everything else felt so dark.

But as he sat there, alone in the darkness, he knew that he couldn't rely on the sun alone. He needed to find a way to bring light back into his family's life, to heal the wounds that had been inflicted and move forward towards a brighter future.

And so, he waited, hoping that tomorrow would bring a new dawn, a chance to start anew and rebuild what had been lost.

Chapter Text

Snap

Snap

Snap

Pull back and release. Pull back and release. Pull back an-

‘Fuck!’ Tommy hissed as another rubber band snapped, wrist already swollen an angry red from tight elastic hitting his tender flesh, over and over. He reached over to his bedside, grabbing another band before being the process over.

Snap.

Snap.

Snap.

Panic hurled within Tommy’s stomach, although his fever had died down, the fog that clouded his mind was yet to lift. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. He couldn’t possibly count the number of times he’d scream into his pillow; the fabric could hide the tears- but never the scars that he left in their place. Those days when he felt nothing but a bottomless emptiness. In those days, the blonde was always beyond sapped of any form of energy, a wave of darkness spread through his bones, through his body, rendering him useless.

We can continue this conversation in the morning. That’s what Techno had said- tomorrow morning, he was going to have to go downstairs, sit down with his dad…..and explain. To be honest, he had been dreaming of the day Phil might finally start to give a shit- but this isn’t how he had expected it to happen. He wanted it to happen on his terms- this wasn’t his own terms. His dad was going to look at him and see a freak- he was going to see what a selfish and ungrateful brat he had turned out to be. Not like Wilbur. Not like Techno. He was a boy who had been given everything- Tubbo had lived out of a car before, but you didn’t see him slitting his wrists over every tiny little inconvenience.

Snap.

Tommy didn’t know how to explain his….problem to his dad- or anyone for that matter. You’d think he’d have experience, judging from the number of people burdened with the true fragility of his mental state.

Tubbo had been the first, it had always been hard to hide things from Tubbo, to be honest, he’d never tried to hide anything from Tubbo- his person. Tubbo had always been too intuitive for his own good- always understanding whatever his mind conjured up before he himself understood.

‘What’s up?’ Tubbo asked as they sat in the library, both of them avoiding Mr Parks- a man notorious for making them run laps around the oval.

‘Mhm?’ Tommy replied, not tearing his gaze from a spot on the wall.

‘Somethings off with you today- you’ve been weird all week.’ Tommy’s eyes flittered up to meet his best friend, worry clearly visible in his deep green eyes. Tommy just smiled, playing it off as him being tired. Tubbo frowned- he knew that he was lying, he just didn’t know why.

‘Tom-,’

‘I’m fine, Tubbo- I dunno- I’m sure I’ll feel better tomorrow.’

‘If you say so.’ Sounding not very convinced, Tubbo turned back to English, brows furrowed ever so slightly as he cursed his dyslexia under his breath.

He wasn’t fine the next day. In fact, he was worse. His skin looked ashen, eyes bloodshot- from crying or lack of sleep, Tubbo couldn’t tell. Like a fragile butterfly with clipped wings, wandering through the labyrinth of his own mind, his spirit was burdened by the weight of unspoken emotions. With each passing day, he seemed to unravel further.

‘Tommy-,’            

‘What did I just tell you? I’m fine. Now stay out of my fucking business, would you?’ Storming away from the table, angrily tugging at the sleeves of his hoodie as he turned his back on Tubbo.

His steps echoed down the empty hallway, and as quickly as it came, his anger dissolved into nothing but a bone-hollowing sadness. He hadn’t meant to lash out- it was all just so much that he had attacked the one person who truly seemed to care about how he was doing.  

And he had gone and fucked it up in true Tom Watson fashion.

He found himself hidden underneath the bleachers, light and shadow filtering across the crown of his hair. Slow, angry tears rolled down his face as he racked his shaking fingers through his already tangled hair.

‘Fuck, fuck, fuck- what the fuck where you thinking-.’ Gasping for air as he continued his mantra, ‘he hates you now- he’s done- he’s so fucking done with you. Happy?’ Now the tears seemed to be a continuous stream.

‘I don’t hate you-’ Came a voice, behind him as Tubbo manoeuvred his small body through the bleachers, ‘I could never hate you, so get that through your thick skull.’

‘What a-are you do-doing here.’ He hiccupped, snaking his arms around his throat unconsciously tightening his hands.

‘Hey- hey, don’t do that.’

‘I’m sorry- I didn’t mean to yell.’

‘I know, I know.’ He whispered, leaning himself onto Tommy’s bony shoulder. ‘Do you wanna talk about it?’

Tommy just shrugged.

‘How about we play 20 questions, if I guess, you have to tell me.’

‘Sure.’

‘Are you just having a bad day?’ Tubbo knew the answer before Tommy gave a small shake of his head.

‘Is it school?’ A shake.

‘Is…..it me?’

‘God no-’ Tommy squawked as if was personally offended by the question.

‘Is it home?’ Tommy paused at this question, before slowly nodding, before shaking his head, then nodding even more hesitantly.

‘Did something happen?’

‘That’s not how you play 20 questions, Tubbo.’

‘Right. Is it your dad?’

‘Kind-’

‘Is it your brothers?’

‘Sorta?’

‘Is…..is it your mum?’

‘No.’

‘Ok.’ Tubbo paused for a moment, cataloguing away this information before taking a completely different path with his questions. ‘Have you ever had a panic attack before?’

‘What are you on about, Big Man?’

‘You…..that was a panic attack, I’m pretty sure. The whole thing when it feels like you can’t like get enough air and everything just feels wrong…I think.’

When every breath felt like an arduous struggle as if an invisible weight had settled upon his chest, suffocating him in a suffocating embrace. The once-familiar sights and sounds became distorted, their colours bleeding into a chaotic blur. It had a name, this overwhelming onslaught that had plagued him for far too long—a panic attack.

‘Oh.’

‘Ummm- is it something on the outside or on the inside?’

‘…both.’

‘Are you- are you feeling….’ Racking his brain for a better word, ‘sad?’

‘Yeah- yeah you could say that.’ Tubbo leaned back against the cold metal of the bleachers, his mind racing with concern for his best friend. He had suspected that something deeper was troubling Tommy, but looking over and not seeing the same boy he who had befriended him, the boy with his golden curls and contagious smile…. not smiling? Was soberingly terrifying.

‘I’m sorry you’re feeling like that.’

‘I think I am too.’

‘So….do- do you think that it’s “just a rough patch” or has it been going on for a while?’

‘A while.’ Tommy whispered, swivelling so Tubbo could no longer see his face.

‘Have you done anything to help with these feelings…?’

‘…. Yeah.’

‘I’m glad to hear that.’ Tommy winced at that, but nodded along, ‘Is it helping?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Can you tell me what it is you’re doing?’

‘…. no.’

‘How come?’

‘…. you wouldn’t get it.’

‘Try me, Big Man.’ Opening up to Tubbo about everything felt like stepping into to uncharted territory- terrifyingly uncharted territory. Staring deep into Tubbo’s jungle green eyes, Tommy swallowed a lump in his throat.

He had repeated this moment in his head time and time again- finally relieving some of the pressure that haunted him. But now that he had asked? Tommy didn’t know if he could do it anymore. The duo was far from normal- for one, they hated football, they’d spend their lunch times designing, building and coding robots, played Minecraft even though they were apparently “way too old for it”.

But what Tommy was doing- downright mutilating his arms in a desperate search of release? That wasn’t just them being weird- this was something being fucked up inside his brain- somewhere no one could reach- where nothing could fix him.

‘I-’ Breathing heavy, cold seeping into his blood as he rushed to look for the right words, ‘Sometimes- I-.’

‘It’s ok, take your time.’ A gentle reassurance that Tubbo was there, that he’d stay with him, like he always had. Came for the sunshine, stayed for the storm.

‘Sometimes I…. Sometimes when everything feels…. wrong-’ Tommy’s bony shoulders drop as he looked up, attempting to blink his eyes clear. ‘I uh- I h-hurt myself.’ He uttered in no more than a whisper he was almost surprised when he felt Tubbo’s frame flinch against his. 

The scariest 10 seconds of his life then followed. 10 seconds of Tubbo not talking, not yelling, not crying, nothing. His heart pounded in his chest, the sound reverberating through his ears in the absence of Tubbo's voice.

The silence was deafening, amplifying the weight of the situation. Every passing moment felt like an eternity as he grappled with the unknown. Thoughts of what might have happened, what could happen next, and the potential consequences flooded his mind. He had done it, he had finally fucked up the one thing that was keeping him on the right side of the railing- he was going to lose Tubbo.

A gentle squeeze of his hand startled him back to reality, breaking through the overwhelming silence that had engulfed them both.

‘C-can I…? Never mind.’

‘It’s ok- you can see.’ He whispered as he rolled up his sleeve. Tubbo thinks knows he’ll remember that moment for the rest of his life. Staring down at Tommy’s pale arms, them being reminiscent of a buzz code, no different to the ones found on the backs of the shitty off brand chips they’d eat on the weekend.

Each scratch was a slender, reddened line, tracing its way across the surface. Examining the cuts more closely, Tubbo could discern the intricate patterns they formed. Some overlapped, intersecting with others, creating a web of distress on Tommy’s skin.

‘W-Why would you do that to yourself-?!’ His voice broke, tears splotching his friends butchered skin, ‘why?’

‘It….it helps?’ It came out as a question more than anything- voice cracking along with the mask he had sewn from fragments of a boy long lost. ‘It…. turns the inside stuff into the outside stuff I guess- makes it easier.’

He knew he sounded like a lunatic- crazy; no sane person would stay after listening to his half assed explanations, yet Tubbo stayed, head leaned on his shoulder.

Silent tears dripping down his cheeks as he rasped, ‘please don’t do that to yourself- please. You don’t deserve to hurt- you’re the funniest, kindest, most caring, wonderful, amazing person I have ever met, and the world doesn’t fucking deserve you. You shouldn’t hurt- its not fair- you don’t deserve it; you deserve to be happy. This isn’t your fault Toms, and I’m so so so fucking sorry I didn’t realise you were hurting so much.’

Tommy’s resolve broke at that as a sob he had kept down bubbled up and came out as a chocked cough before hiccups and gasps continued. He vividly remembered the way his body felt light and heavily weighed down at the same time, his brain tearing itself apart and rearranging thoughts over and over again.

Tommy floated in the sadness of the person he used to be. He caught glimpses of himself sometimes- through the absolute wreck of a place that used to be standing. The world had once again been pulled from right beneath his feet.

 And it hurt.

For a while after everything had been almost good. He had almost been back to his old self, he had almost stopped hurting himself, he had almost been content with everything. But at least he had Tubbo- Tubbo who had been his rock ever since he found out.

Tubbo who promised it changed nothing and that now the only thing that was different was Tommy had someone to talk about it to. Someone who unconditionally had his back- through thick and thin. Tubbo who had almost kept his promise.

Almost was such a cruel word.

Almost is never enough.

Almost is just an empty promise, of nothing and everything. An incomplete story, a half-spoken sentence, an unfinished poem.

Almost better, almost better, almost better.

Almost.
 

Everything had been almost good until Ranboo had transferred to their school in the middle of year 8. Ranboo with his bushy brown hair and stellar blue eyes. Ranboo who could make Tubbo double over in fits of hysterical laughter. Ranboo who was kind, and happy and funny. Who was painfully compassionate and understanding. Everything that Tommy wasn’t.

Ranboo- who was Tommy’s replacement.

At first, Tommy ignored the dull ache in his heart whenever he noticed the two- bottling up the jealousy that threatened to spill over whenever he didn’t understand an inside joke that Tubbo made, or when he found out Ranboo had invited Tubbo for dinner.

What had truly sucked was when he had shown up to Tubbo’s like an idiot like he did most days- only to look like a fool when Dream awkwardly explained, “Sorry Toms, Tubs is at Ranboo’s place for dinner tonight- I thought he would have told you.”

No, no, Tommy couldn’t handle that right now. Not after watching Tubbo and Ranboo playfully elbow each other all lunch, their laughter taking up the air around them. Not when he was tired. Not when his skin was itching with phantom claws, and it felt like he was too big for his body.

He was in his room, now, somehow, and he drifted to his bed, body feeling oddly light as his skull tried to stop his brain from growing. His head felt like it was going to pop, and he closed his eyes as he dropped into his bed, his safe, safe bed.

He curled up into the fetal position, knees to his chest, and he choked on the toxic air making its way into his lungs. Tommy rocked back and forth, shivering, and he did the only thing he could think of to calm himself down.

Despite his closed eyes, he could see the two behind his eyelids, and he tried to fight the whimper that escaped his lungs, but it was futile.

 He hated it- hated seeing Tubbo with someone who wasn’t him.

Tommy felt like his body wasn’t his anymore, like he was being possessed, black smoke filling his lungs and his brain and his heart, making him evil, terrible— what kind of awful person was he? Did the sight of Tubbo, who had sacrificed so much to make him happy, laughing with another person make him upset?

He didn’t eat that night.

Walking down the hallway to his locker, some rock song blasting in his ears he didn’t feel….awful. That morning he had woken up to a notification from I am Sober, an app Tubbo had installed on his phone congratulating him on a month clean.

The last cuts he had made were nothing more than white lines on his forearm; they didn’t itch and they weren’t so noticeable that he was able to wear a T-Shirt to school for the first time in what felt like years. His whole body felt warm, being able to see progress felt so rewarding.

Turning the corner to his locker he sees…. Ranboo, leaning down to ear level to savour a secret joke. When the two notice Tommy’s presence, he watches Ranboo’s eyes flitter from Tubbo to Tommy back to Tubbo again, paling slightly before Tubbo makes an oddly forced welcome, but Tommy can’t hear him over rushing in his ears and the cold that trickled down his spine evaporating all the warmth he had felt just moments before.

‘Hey Toms.’

‘H-Hello Toms…’ Ranboo greeted awkwardly.

‘Don’t fucking call me that.’

‘S-sorry.’ By now, Ranboo had caught onto Tommy’s dislike towards the taller, ‘how was your weekend?’

Fully ignoring Ranboo, pointedly turning towards the brunette.  ‘Tubbo how come you didn’t reply to my dm last night.’

If Tubbo noticed Tommy seemingly more wound up than usual, he didn’t mention anything. ‘Yeah, sorry bout that, I was over at Ranboo’s and my phone died.’

‘And what? You couldn’t ask for a fucking charger? And what about this morning, hm?’ I didn’t mean that. That was mean. Why did you say that?

‘Well, I’m sorry, I didn’t know that I needed my phone on me every minute of every day so I can hang on to your every word. And for your information, I left my phone at home.’ He snapped back, and almost immediately regret flashed across his face as hurt trickled into Tommy’s eyes.

‘Right yeah no sorry about that.’ Before quickly grabbing his stuff from his locker and speed walking to first period.

Fuck

Fuck

Fuck

Fuck

He shouldn’t have done that; he should have been able to keep it under wraps. He should have made an effort to be a person that deserved Tubbo. What was that look. The little side glance, like Ranboo knew something he didn’t. Or- Ranboo knew something about Tommy he shouldn’t know. He spits the thought out as if it was poison. Tubbo would never tell someone else his deepest darkest secret…. but then again, Ranboo was different. Is that why they had shared that look?

He knew.

He knew.

Ranboo knew.

Tubbo had told someone- and soon the whole school would know and then his dad and brothers and they were going to be so disappointed and oh god he couldn’t fucking breathe.

Tommy found himself on the floor furthest stall of the boys’ bathroom in the quad, somewhere rarely visited by anyone else. The coolness of the ceramic tiles grounded him to his reality- to lone tears dripping down his face as he tried not to throw up.

He gagged a couple of times but after his body finally got the memo that there was nothing to throw up, decided to give him a break. He had 15 minutes before the start of class, which he could spend seeking out Tubbo, apologising and probably crying to, or on the cold toilet floor; trying to relearn how to breathe without choking.

Definitely the latter.

Thoughts, like restless birds, fluttered wildly, their wings brushing against the walls of his consciousness as Tommy sat in 1^st period, science; just about the only class he had with just Tubbo, as they were both in the extension class. His fingers slipped into his pencil case, pulling out a shard from a broken ruler, gripping it in his hand allowing the rough edges numb his brain.

Amidst the hum of whispered voices and the gentle rustling of papers, his gaze remained fixed on the whiteboard, leg jittering under the table. Every word, every action dissected in the theatre of Tommy’s mind, seeking traces of disdain, searching for the invisible threads that wove their friendship together. Without Tommy, Tubbo was still Tubbo; strong, funny, loveable. Tommy without Tubbo? He was simply a body waiting for a burial.

‘Psssst Tommy.’ Tubbo hisses as Tommy absentmindedly draws electron configurations.

‘Tommy.’

‘Huh?’

‘You’re so out of it today it’s hilarious.’ Usually, a comment like that would make him thwack the back of Tubbo’s head with a light-hearted “shut up bitch boy” but today, he found himself micro-picking every word that came out of his mouth. ‘Ok no seriously- what is up with you today.’

And a little part of him broke at that- because Tubbo was meant to be the one person who could understand that sometimes he wasn’t ok, he was meant to be the one person who wouldn’t ask those questions.

‘Nothing. Jesus- just leave me alone.’

‘Okay-.’

Stupid.

Stupid.

Stupid.

‘Sorry, I didn’t mean that.’

‘Mhm.’

He’s mad- Ranboo wouldn’t do this.

Lunch was even more miserable today as the three of them sat, Ranboo snickering over the jokes Tubbo usually told him. He knew how ridiculous it all sounded, somewhere in the back of his head he knew that Tubbo wasn’t his, and that him being this possessive over his best friend wasn’t healthy for either one of them but……Tubbo was all he had left.

His mum was dead, his brothers had left him, and his dad was never home. Tubbo was the only stable thing in his life at the moment- who had promised to be there as he battled every thought that crept into his mind. And it hurt that his promise hadn’t meant as much to him as it had to Tommy.

‘……. I can’t even remember the last time I cried.’ Ranboo laughs, ‘I probably cried like twice last year maybe three times? Probably over sappy romcom, my mums made me watch.’

‘God Ranboo, can you shut the fuck up for once-.’ He hissed, ignoring Tubbo glared his way.

‘W-what?’

‘Just- your all meh meh meh and like it's so fucking annoying.’

‘Toms-,’

‘I can’t fucking concentrate on my work if you guys keep yelling in my ear.’

‘Toms…’ Eyes flicking between the two as if he was calculating whether he was going to properly get involved or not.

‘We were just talking-’

‘But we’ll keep it down.’ Tubbo cut-off, graze drifting down to the slight tremble in his fingers.

‘Tubbo-.’

‘We were being a bit loud- and Tommy’s doing work so y’know- let's just keep it down.’

‘…Thanks, Tubbo.’ Warmth creeping back into his system.

‘And Tommy? Watch your tone.’ Never mind. Tubbo had never used a phrase- or voice like that with him before…he almost sounded like his dad, disappointed.

Whispers of doubt echoed through lunch and well into 5^th period. In the quiet moments, his thoughts wandered, tracing the contours of memories shared.

Why is the thought of Tubbo having a mentally stable friend so terrifying to you?

Are you really that bad of a person that you can’t be happy for him?

Why do you have to be so mean all the time- he didn’t ask for this, your just as bad as them.   

Static ran up and down his body as he sat, cross-legged on his bed, pillow clenched against his chest.

Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry. Like a mantra in his head. What kind of guy cries over every little thing, Jesus Tom, get it together. Thoughts tangle together as the entire day sets itself on replay in his head, reviewing every mistake over and over.

That upset Ranboo, stop caring, that disappointed Tubbo, so stop hurting Ranboo. He knew the one thing that could make him stop feeling so completely and utterly shit. No- don’t pour a whole month down the drain.

But it’d only be one- and Tubbo would never have to know. One quick and easy cut and he could go back to feeling ok. Pulling open the drawer that held all the razors he had bought in a moment of weakness Tommy surveyed his options. Just as he was about to make the first and only cut, his phone rang.

Incoming call from Bitch Boy.

‘Hey, Tubs.’ He called gently, still loosely holding the blade in his other hand.

‘Tommy, hey.’

‘Hi…what’s up?’

‘I was just…uh…I was just calling about your text that I didn’t see last night. I’m so sorry- I should’ve put it together in my head that a month was coming up. A month. I’m so proud of you Toms.’

That was what the stupid message had been about- a screenshot of a whole month clean that he had sent to Tubbo in a moment of glimmering pride.

‘Oh yeah right.’

‘I thought you’d be happy; this is really big- like amazing.’

‘Yeah- yeah, I am.’

‘Then why do you….y’know, sound not so happy?’

‘Because I almost just cut myself.’ Theirs a shift in the air after he says that before Tubbo whispers, ‘I’m sorry.’

‘I’ll be over in 10.’

Well, Tubbo can’t be over in 10 today- Tubbo can’t be here because he’s out of town for the weekend and Tommy feels like he’s about to die. It hurts. It hurts so fucking bad that he doesn’t even know what else he’s feeling. The new cuts sting more than anything and yesterdays have a horrible ache that he can’t shake, and his eyes hurt from crying- this truly has to be hell on earth.

Incoming call from Bitch Boy.

‘Tommy- thank God-.’ Tubbo breathes from the other end, pure unmasked relief in his voice.

‘……T’bo- I fucked up.’

‘Hey, hey, hey no it’s ok- it’s ok.’ He comforts, but Tommy can hear the fear through the speaker. He can hear the tremble in his voice, see his nails chewed down into numbs, feel Dream pacing in the background. ‘Um ok- how bad is it, like be dead straight with me.’

‘I’m ok…it’s ok- stop freaking out- and don’t call an ambulance.’ A dead chuckle crawls out of his mouth.

‘I’m going to Facetime you, ok? And you’re going to pick up and…and show me- just so I can get an idea, got it.’

‘M’sorry- I didn’t mean to ruin your weekend.’

‘I couldn’t care less about my weekend, you’re not ruining anything, so just pick up, please Tommy.’ He does, and he doesn’t need to make eye contact to see what his face looks like, so he stares at his shoulder, blinking back tears.

‘Jesus.’ He hears Dream hiss in the background, ‘hand me over.’

‘H-hey Dream.’

‘Hey Tommy,’ Eyes crinkled in a kind smile, ‘you know I love you, right? So, I cannot, and I mean cannot let you stay by yourself right now- is there anyone I can call to come be with you, patch you up?’ Tommy shakes his head.

‘Nikki?’

‘She and Jack are at her grandma’s.’

‘Gray? Punz?’

‘Were not close enough for this.’ He mumbles.

‘Tommy- stay with me here.’

‘Ranboo!’ Tubbo yelps from the background before snatching back the phone. ‘Tommy, I know how you feel about him but he’s a good guy- and he won’t judge and we can’t leave you right now….’

‘….no- you can’t tell- you can’t tell him T’bo.’ He pleaded- thinking he’d actually end himself if Ranboo found him like this- on the bathroom floor half bleeding to death.

‘You’re slurring your words and I’m so sorry, but it's him or the ambo’s.’

‘Fuck….’ He sighed, building up the energy to finish his sentence, ‘you-.’

Before Tubbo hung up the phone. So there Tommy sat, slumped against his bathtub, tears dripping down, mixing with the blood, making a piece of art on his arms as the red diluted, swirling together in the most intricate patterns; just waiting for Ranboo, someone who he’d been a complete and utter dick to for months on end, to find him at his most vulnerable.

Was he going to laugh? Tell him he deserved it. Or that he was a freak, someone who didn’t deserve help. Well, he wouldn’t have to wait much longer to find out because as the front door slammed shut and thumps of someone who possess weirdly long legs came up the stairs, Tommy blinked a few more tears, bracing for the worst to come.

‘Ranboo-,’ Tubbo’s frantic voice filled his ear as he picked up the phone. ‘Ranboo thank God you picked up.’

‘Uhhh hey what’s up?’

‘There’s no time to explain- where are you right now.’

‘At home? Why?’

‘Oh good, fuck- thank God.’

‘What’s going on- are you okay?’ He worried, never having heard Tubbo sound this distressed before.

‘Yeah, no I’m fine- um I’ll explain in a sec- just get your shoes on and get over to Tommy’s.’

‘Wha-.’

‘Please.’

‘Tubbo what’s going on?’

‘Please!’

‘Okay, okay. Done- I’m walking…. now can you explain to me what’s going on?’

‘Ummm yeah okay how do I say this?’ He hears a bated breath before, ‘You know how I told you Tommy’s had it rough, right?’

‘Yeah, with his mum and all that.’

‘No- like he’s had it rough with other things,’ Oh. ‘Before I say anything you have to swear you won’t tell anyone, swear.’

‘I swear.’

‘He’s struggled with depression and anxiety for…. a while now.’ He turned a corner. ‘And uh a couple- maybe two years ago? He um- he started…. he started hurting himself.’

Oh wow, he hadn’t expected that…. Tommy just didn’t seem the type.

‘And he’s um he’s just had a really bad relapse and I swear I wouldn’t ask you if there was anyone, I could call but there isn’t and I’m scared that he might bleed out or something if he’s left alone.’

Passing by school if he took a left then another left it should only take another 5-10 minutes to get there.

‘He’s not gushing but he was slurring his words and was dizzy so- and um when you get there, disinfect the cuts, then gauze, then bandage. There’s a first aid kit under the sink, do them real tight.’

Ranboo didn’t know who he hurt for more hearing how well-versed Tubbo was in treating Tommy’s wounds.

‘And uh Ranboo- whatever you may think, about him hating you and all that…. He doesn’t, I swear- he’s just scared….and hurting- please, you have to help him.’

‘Hey Ranboo…’ Tommy whispers from the floor, tears in his eyes as he smiles for the first time at Ranboo. It’s a broken, sad smile, a smile that feels like he’s given up. He didn’t want their first non-hostile interaction to be like this. ‘I’m sorry.’

And it felt weirdly like a goodbye.

‘There’s nothing to be sorry for, I’m just here to help.’ Going over to the sink, he found said first-aid kit Tubbo was talking about, finding the disinfectant, gauze and bandages.

‘I’m sorry if this is going to hurt.’ He murmured as he dabbed some disinfectant onto a handcloth.

‘Don’t-,’ Tommy sighed, ‘don’t worry about it Big Man.’ Something about Tommy calling Ranboo something he’d only heard call his close friends, even in this dire situation, made Ranboo smile.

‘Like this?’ Tommy nodded quietly, tears still dripping down his face. ‘I’m sorry you have to go through all this.’

‘Why?’ He whispered back, lifting his gaze to make eye contact, ‘I deserve it.’

‘Why would you ever say that.’ Horrified, Ranboo gasped at Tommy’s response.

‘I’m so mean to you- you’ve done nothing but be kind and I’m so awful back.’

‘No, Tommy, never. You should never deserve to hurt. You don’t like change, I knew that, I should have been more considerate of your feelings after joining your group half way through the year.’

‘I should have been nicer- you should hate me.’

‘But I don’t- and this might hurt a little.’ He whispered, pressing the cloth onto the cuts, gut clenching as he watched it soak red.

Snap

He had never outwardly told anyone about his self-harm; someone had either found out from someone else like Ranboo or pieced it together like Nikki had. But tomorrow he was going to have to tell his dad point blank.

Sleep didn’t grace him until the early hours of the morning.

‘Morning boys.’ Dad greeted, a mug of coffee in his hand, hair tied up in a messy ponytail.

‘M’ning.’ Wilbur grumbled, making grabby hands to the coffee pot, Phil laughed, handing over the pot.

‘Morning family members.’ Techno spoke from behind his laptop, who looked like he had been up for hours already. Tommy just stared into space, eyes bleary from lack of sleep.

‘Awww someone’s tired.’ Wilbur cooed. Tommy realised Wilbur did that a lot, the cooing thing, like he was some amusing animal, like the ones that often came up on his Instagram.

‘So, you boys wanted to talk about something?’ And just like that, Tommy tensed up, ducking his head, avoiding his brother's questioning eyes. ‘Well?’

‘I think its best if we sit for this conversation, don’t you think Toms?’ Tommy just nodded numbly, jolting when Wilburs' arm came around his shoulders, guiding him.

 When the twins lead him into the living room, sitting him in an armchair; he watched them whisper to the youngest before a hushed silence fell over the room, Tommy looking increasingly more terrified as each beat of silence ticked by and even with Wilbur’s slender arm wrapped around him, acting as a support beam, the blond still looked as if he was about to cave into himself.

‘You ready, Toms?’ The brunette whispered, his constant presence humming over the room making it slightly more bearable. The blond nuzzles further into his brother before inhaling deeply and finally allowing their gazes to meet. Tommy didn’t know how to explain that no he wasn’t ready- this isn’t how he wanted his dad to found out if ever.

‘Dad….’ But to Tommy’s dismay, words fail, and he was with that awful sensation of words being stuck at the back of his throat, fighting gasps of air he greedily gulps down. He had tried so hard for so long to be perfect for his dad, just for a fraction of his attention.

But he wasn’t perfect. He was bound to fuck up. He knew reflecting his frustration and anger to his body was not ideal or healthy. But oh god his heart felt so heavy and his head was filled with static. His tongue felt like cotton and his eyes just stings. He needed a release. And it was so easy, and it felt so right. He needed an outlet that can help him release all that he was feeling, and he had that. And now, he was about to sacrifice it.

 ‘I- I don’t t-think I’m, I’m ok, a-anymore.’

‘D-Do you wanna explain a bit more, Tommy?’ Phil asks, sitting up slightly straighter as he attempts to collect his scattered brain. He sees the hesitation in his sons eyes, he can feel the fear radiating off his small frame.

‘You’ll hate me.’

‘Tommy,’ Phil chucked, ‘I’m sure whatever your about to tell me- I won’t be mad. Is this about your grades, cause if you’re struggling then we can always get you a tut-’

‘I hurt myself-.’ Tommy cut in, in a moment of hysteria.

Phil's jovial expression faded, replaced by a deep concern etched upon his face. His voice softened, laced with an unfamiliar fatherly warmth. ‘Could…could you say that again.’ Tommy’s breath hitched, desperately shaking his head as if he was begging not to say it again. Once was humiliating enough.

Wilbur squeezed him, bringing his head onto his shoulder. The soft mustard-yellow fabric beneath his temple gave him some comfort. He helplessly lifted up his arms, begging for his father to understand what he was implying, urging him to understand without making him say it.

Phil just shook his head, bringing both hands to cover his mouth, staring at his son with blown eyes. Tommy found himself yearning the feeling of understanding, a chance to describe the demons that reside within his brain, the demons that sang and taunted, dancing around his brain in tap shoes and heavy chains. For once, let someone else carry the burden with him.

Slowly pulling up one sleeve, holding out his arm for Phil to unwrap the bandages. When the garment slips to the ground, his dad lets out something between a heartbroken gurgle and sob from the back of his throat.

‘No.’ He sobs, ‘Not my baby, no-.’ Tears dripping down his face as Phil knees at the foot of the couch, takes both of Tommys' hands and presses them to his forehead. ‘Why.’

Tommy's voice trembled as he tried to explain the indescribable, intricate dance of torment that played within his mind. ‘It hurts, Dad. It hurts so much, and I... I don't know why, but hurting myself somehow makes it hurt less.’

‘How long?’

‘…..4 years?’ Phil gasped, Wilbur stiffened, and Techno’s heartbroken gaze locked onto his.

‘4 years?’

‘I’m sorry.’ His heart shattered as he absorbed the weight of his son's confession, the demons that Tommy had battled for years, hidden beneath the surface.

‘I swear on every dollar I own that nothing you do or say can make me hate you.’

And a selfish, irrational, childish part of Tommy opens up as he hears those words as if he can see a light at the end of the tunnel. He knows most kids with his…. problem fear the day that their parents may find out, that long sleeves aren’t enough to keep their disgusting, selfishly attention-seeking secret.

Tears welled in Tommy's eyes as he uttered a broken apology, the weight of his secret finally lifted, yet still crushing him. He had feared this moment, dreaded the revelation that threatened to shatter the delicate threads of their family's love.

But his response, his unwavering declaration of love, love that he had lacked tore through the walls of Tommy's self-imposed isolation.

This didn’t mean all was good, but it was something.

Chapter Text

Hi everyone… it's been a while.

I never thought I’d be writing one of these “announcement” fake-out chapters. I’ve always been the kind of person who’d get pissed off when after getting all excited that a fic I was reading got an update and it just turned out to be an A/N. But alas, here we are. Not even half an hour ago (yeah, I know I’m late, I just haven’t been that active in the fandom… or any fandom for that matter, not with schoolwork taking major priority), I found out about this whole Wilbur and Shubble situation. Actually, no, let's call it what it is: I found out about the domestic abuse situation between Wilbur Soot and Shelby Shubble.

For those of you who aren’t fully up to date, a couple of days ago, Shubble went live (I believe) and talked about an abusive relationship she was in where her ex-boyfriend would leave her covered in bruises from biting her, and then refused to stop, even after her pleas to stop. That, and some other comments she made about an ant infestation (of all things) led the majority of Twitter (I believe, since I value my sanity and have stayed far away from the platform), to point their fingers at Wilbur.

The way I found out about all this was in chronological order, so my first thought was “he’s innocent until proven guilty… and I genuinely don’t have time to be concerning myself with whoever Twitter's trying to cancel today.” But then, he replied. Confirming all the rumours and allegations and then basically saying, “I thought it was consensual and thought she enjoyed it.”

Now that you’re up to speed, you may be wondering, “Jinx, why the fuck are you making a statement.” Well… I never thought I’d be telling random people on the internet this, but here I am.

Domestic violence is something that hits close to home for a lot of people, myself included. I’ve seen what abuse does firsthand. I know what it does to families because it happened to mine. It’s a sad and daunting truth to come to terms with but feels like nothing to one person, or feels “consensual,” is more than enough to mess someone up for the rest of their life. I’ve seen how it destroys the kindest people. How it destroyed my mum, who lived in hell on earth for 17 years for her children. And I can hear you guys through my screen, “Why are you talking about your mum when it has absolutely nothing to do with Shelby, who is the victim of today's story?” Well, that being said, I no longer feel comfortable glorifying Wilbur, even this persona of him, even if it is just within the bounds of a fanfiction.

Which is why “Constant Pillars” is going on an official hiatus (as if it hasn’t been on an unofficial hiatus for over half a year now). Hopefully not forever, but just until I can think of a way to rewrite and change some things, so I don’t keep writing Wilbur to be this “reformed saint”. Because no matter how much I enjoyed his videos back in lockdown when I was 12 years old, I will not ever condone the actions of an abuser, and neither should you. I this entire situation, not because it’s about someone I “idolised” (the fact of the matter being, I didn’t, it’s just not the kind of thing I do), but because there is a person who is speaking out on the fact that she was in an abusive relationship, kept quiet for God knows how long and then when she finally speaks up, the reaction of the general public is in DEFENCE of the abuser.  Just because he was their “comfort streamer” or “he made edgy relatable music” and “inspired them.” I’m not shaming anyone for enjoying Lovejoy music, because I used to really be into their music, but that’s not the fucking point. Shelby is the victim, Shelby is the one who needs and deserves 100% of your support, not Wilbur, not Tommy or any of his friends (ex-friends?), Shelby.

Thanks for reading and hopefully I’ll one day I’ll continue this fic, because I genuinely have met some of the coolest people through it, but as of right now, no date has been set in mind, and I will just be following along to see if any more information is released from either end.

Yours truly,

Jinx ☆